


You want the truth and you don't see its perils

by crushing83



Series: Bullets and Blades [7]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard is reincarnated, Bard lives many lives, Crossover, M/M, Modern AU, Owen having strange dreams, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, Thranduil considering a life of crime, Thranduil runs into someone from his past, bad things happen to elves, happens a few years before Fast & Furious 6, playing it fast and loose with Tolkien's mythology, poor use of elvish, pre-Furious 6, somehow Thranduil finds him every time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen and Thranduil are on another job when someone comes across them. Thranduil soon learns he isn't the only elf that survived the passing of time---and that their existence isn't a secret from everyone. And then, Owen becomes more curious about Thranduil's past; he tries harder to get more information out of him. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen and Thranduil are away working; another elf crosses Thranduil's path.

"This coffee is disgusting." 

Thranduil smiled over his cup. Owen was grimacing with every sip and it was making an entertaining show. 

"Stop drinking it, then," the elf suggested after a sip of his not-awful (to his exacting standards) tea. "You should have come into the tea shop with me."

"It smelled like flowers. I don't drink flowers." 

He chuckled. "They're not all made with flowers." He set his cup down. "Do you want me to go find you something to drink?" 

Owen smiled a bit at him from under the brim of his cap. "No, thanks, love," he replied. "Our guy's nearly here." 

Their "guy" was one of the last names on the list Owen extracted of his last mission; David Fitzpatrick was being evaluated as a potential source of information, as had most of the others on the list. There were a couple of possibilities, though so far no one had fit all of Owen's criteria. He had told Thranduil that he'd compromise if he checked every name and came up with no one that fit all of his needs---but that he wasn't giving up hope. 

Neither was Thranduil. There was a woman on the list that he suspected would be the best bet; they hadn't checked her out yet, but Owen had mentioned that the man investigating him had a tendency to work on an all-male team and would borrow female law enforcement officers from whatever city or region he was visiting. It was a noticeable pattern; Thranduil believed it would continue and a female double-agent would provide them with the best access to the team that occasionally investigated Owen's work. 

Owen and the rest of his team were investigating their potential targets. Thranduil was invited along as Owen's back-up, as the rest of his team was paired up amongst each other for each investigation---a plan that would ensure an introductory amount of information was gleaned quickly, to allow Owen to decide who had the biggest weakness to exploit more quickly. 

Personal information would be better currency when trying to persuade someone to provide classified intelligence, Owen had explained, but so far no one had family or secret habits that he could exploit. The idea of blackmail made the elf uncomfortable, but he understood the need for it. He wanted Owen to have access to inside information that would keep him safe. Owen promised him he wouldn't hurt anyone if he could avoid it; Thranduil believed him. 

The elf rubbed the band around the edge of the knitted cap he was wearing. It covered his ears and allowed him to hide his hair, but that didn't mean he liked it. He did like when Owen wore it, though, so the scent of the other man made up for how he felt while wearing it. 

"You look cute in my hat," Owen murmured. 

Thranduil scowled. The man laughed. 

"He's going into the newsstand," Owen said after his laughter faded away. "Do you think you can do this phone cloning?" 

Thranduil sniffed. "The only reason I didn't do the last one," he said as he stood up, "was because that girl spilled her beer on me. That won't be a problem this time." 

Owen grinned. "Just remember what I taught you. And be careful. If you think he suspects---"

"Buy something, get out, and keep walking," the elf cut off his lover's instructions. "I know." 

He wanted to walk around the table and kiss the man smiling at him---an impulse he often felt when in his presence---but he knew Owen was not wild about public displays of affection while they were working. He preferred to show his affection and appreciation after the job was finished. So, instead, he offered Owen a smile before he turned and walked towards the magazine shop. 

Their target was standing in the middle of the technology section. A quick look around told him the gardening section was on the opposite side of the aisle. He decided that was where he would go. 

As he walked, he turned on the device in his coat pocket. When David was occupied with an issue of a programming magazine, Thranduil gave the device a quick check. Its lights were on, signaling it was functioning correctly, and when he was standing at the mark's back, he pushed the button that would start the cloning process. Ivory had programmed the device to look for a specific phone---and that man was the very best at constructing the tools they needed, Owen had once declared---so he wasn't worried about cloning the wrong one.

He flipped through an issue of _Perennial Pleasures_ as he waited for the process to complete. He made sure he stayed within five feet of their investigative target, and when it beeped, he pulled out his phone and pretended to answer a text---as Owen instructed him to do. 

As he did that, their mark took two magazines off of the rack and turned to go to the cashier's counter. Thranduil followed with the issue he'd been pretending to ponder. He had one thing left to do, and he didn't want to miss his chance. 

Ten minutes later, he was leaving the shop with a magazine in his hand---and a tracking device stuck under the collar of Mister Fitzpatrick's coat. 

And that was when he felt himself being watched... and not by Owen.

There was another elf nearby. He could feel the tingle of elfish power much more strongly that he had before. The current sensation had intent, unlike the previous encounter that had been an accident. The elf had gone looking for him---and had found him. 

His partner in crime was already up and moving. Thranduil didn't make eye contact with him; instead, he put his right hand in his back pocket, which was their sign for something possibly being wrong, and he walked away from the small inlet of stores and eateries. 

He continued into an area with banks and businesses. He knew Owen would follow him, would help him get away when the opportunity arose, so he wasn't particularly panicked. In anything, he was more curious about the elf---who was it? did he know them? how had they fared through time?---and hoped that he could get to an isolated area so the elf would confront him before Owen could get to him. 

He entered an alley between a closed bank (because it was a Sunday) and a tower that housed offices of all kinds. He had to wait two minutes before footsteps approached; he used that time to dispose of his magazine, pull his knife from his boot, and brace himself for grabbing the elf who was following him. 

He turned them as soon as his hand reached out and gripped a chunk of coat. A female gasp reached his ears when the body struck the wall and he followed to take away his follower's room to maneuver.  

A kick to his knee staggered him. He looked up and saw a flash of red hair before a fist struck out towards his face. 

He recognised the movement. He dropped his knife in surprise. He ducked, twisted, and struck the elf in the shoulder. She fell back, her hair fell away, and his suspicion was confirmed. 

"Tauriel!" 

The woman stared him down. She hit him across the mouth with the back of her hand when she launched herself at him. He let her push him into the wall, having enough trust in her not to do him serious harm. 

"Prove it's you," she said quietly and calmly. 

Thranduil snorted. "If you had gone this far when I was king, your assignment to Dale would not have been the punishment I'd have given you." 

"Do better than that." 

He floundered for a moment, astonished that she would need such proof, before he realised what he had to do. 

It was like unclenching a fist that had been kept tight for so long that the fingers ached at the idea of being in another position, but it eventually released; he let go of the glamour hiding his scars and waited until recognition settled in Tauriel's features before calling back that part of his power to hide the damage again. 

She'd been one of the few to ever see the result of that disaster. She was probably the only one still alive to have seen it. It was not a side of him that he exposed easily, if ever. 

"My lord!" she exclaimed. She stepped back and released him. "I apologise. I needed to know. For certain."  

"Tauriel," he said quietly, "it is fine. But... why... how..." 

She smiled a bit. "I thought I was alone again, until I crossed your path at the train station in Berlin," she explained quietly. "I needed to find you. I had to know. I hope I didn't ruin your job." 

"I... no. It... we've nearly finished." 

She smiled a bit more. "Are you fighting crime or committing it?" 

In a very un-royal move, Thranduil laughed and hugged her close. She returned the embrace. He had not seen her since Bard's funeral---she had been banished from his kingdom after the battle since she'd disobeyed (nearly all of) his orders, but he'd arranged for her to go to Dale to act as an advisor and liaison for the new king (to show understanding for her feelings while still upholding his rule)---and any hard feelings he had held for her had evaporated over time and in the face of being reunited with his kind again. 

"How did you survive?" he asked her as they separated. 

"I... I endured. I stayed in Dale as long as I could, and then I set off on my own after the last war," she replied. She frowned. "I did not want to be too far from... his grave. Despite the rest of the dwarves. But, the elves were going and men forgot us and... after some time, it was for the best." 

Thranduil cupped her head in his hands and studied her. He saw scars on her neck and face, but what troubled him the most was the roundness of her ears. Her points were gone. He looked into her eyes; he couldn't make himself ask what had happened. 

"I'm surprised you kept yours," she said quietly. "They made me a target." 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He remembered doing that when she was young, without parents, when she was scared or hurt. She must have remembered, too, because she reached up and rubbed his hands and wrists. 

 _"Ci vêr?"_ he asked in the dialect of his people. 

She frowned. "You should not speak like that in public," she whispered. "It is not safe. There are dangers everywhere." The redhead sighed and gave his wrists a squeeze. "But, it is good to hear our tongue again." 

"Tauriel..." 

"I am as well as I can be," she said, answering his question. "My ears are changed... but their shape does not make me any less of an elf." 

"What happened?" 

"Your partner will find us before I can tell the whole story," she reminded him. "Can I come to you later to explain?" 

He nodded. "Give me your number. I will text you my address." 

Tauriel smiled. "You have a cell phone?" she asked. When he nodded, she chuckled. He arched a brow in silent question. "I apologise," she murmured, "I find it amusing." 

"If it helps, I broke my first two in frustration." 

"It does." 

He released her and stepped back. After producing his phone, she told him her number; he saved it in his sparse address book. He promised to be in touch; she promised to come to him as quickly and as safely as she could when she heard from him. 

"Take care, Tauriel," he said as she left his side and headed to the mouth of the alley. 

"You, too, my lord." 

Owen caught up to him at their arranged meeting place, a gas station between the business and residential areas of the city. Thranduil got into his car and squeezed the man's hand. And the man stared at him in response. 

"What happened?" 

Thranduil frowned. "What do you mean?" 

Owen reached out and brushed his thumb over Thranduil's lower lip. When he lifted it away, the elf saw faint traces of blood; he realised he must have cut his lip when Tauriel struck him. 

"Someone grabbed me in an alley," he said, honestly but vaguely. 

"Who?" Owen growled. 

Thranduil shrugged. "It happened pretty quickly. I hit them back and pulled my knife," he said, knowing he was skirting into dishonest territory. "They fled." 

"Was it Fitzpatrick?" 

Thranduil shook his head. "No." 

"Did you recognise them?" 

"It wasn't anyone from the files you showed me," the blond replied. "Owen, it was probably just a mugger." 

"Probably not, in broad daylight," Owen commented. He sighed. "If you thought you were being watched, it's probably because he's already under surveillance---or on someone's payroll." 

Thranduil patted Owen's thigh. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not sure for what he was apologising.  

"Not your fault, love," Owen responded. "I'm glad you got away alright." 

They shared a brief kiss. Thranduil could feel tension in the man; he knew he was the reason it was there. He wanted to prolong the embrace, but before he could, Owen pulled back and looked at him. 

"You all set for the drive home?" the man asked. 

Thranduil nodded. He was glad Mister Fitzpatrick had been practically local. While he enjoyed travelling with Owen, he did not enjoy the stress of flying under an assumed name---even if there was usually a private airstrip involved in their plans. 

Owen pulled out of the gas station's small parking lot and Thranduil settled into his seat. When Owen put his hand on Thranduil's thigh, he sighed and smiled. He was not the only Woodland elf left in the world. And even though the man he loved was quiet and tense, he was still there beside him. He had faith everything would work out favourably. 

&&&&&

Thranduil cradled his hands around his mug of tea and watched as Owen packed his duffle. The man was packing for a trip out of the country with some of his team; they were going to stake out the two finalists in their earlier investigation, to gather more in-depth informant to aide Owen in his decision of who to approach. He hadn't put on his shirt yet, so the elf was blatantly admiring the view. 

"You sure you don't want to join us?" 

Thranduil smiled from his perch on Owen's bed. "I'm sure. I have classes this week," he murmured. "But, thank you for the offer." 

That was true, but he also had a visit with Tauriel scheduled for that afternoon. They'd been in contact since their altercation in the alley; she claimed to have information for him and he wanted to spend time in the company of a familiar (and favoured, despite their history) elf. He knew he would have to explain that he'd encountered someone from his past, but he wasn't ready to do that yet, so he was keeping his plans as secret as he could until he was ready. 

Owen nodded and tucked a couple of long-sleeved shirts into his bag. 

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked. 

Thranduil tilted his head to the side as he observed the man in front of him. "I think you'll have a harder time with your choice if you're not there to gather the information yourself," he said. "And if you don't go, you can't surprise me later. The welcome back sex is always exceptional." 

The man cracked a grin at his last comment. "Something to look forward to, then," he decided. 

"Definitely," the elf murmured. "I always look forward to your return." 

"Just for that?" 

Thranduil grinned, too. "There are other benefits to having you back." 

"Yeah? Like what?" 

"Well, I'll have someone to wash my back," he teased, "and carry my heavy equipment bag to the car." 

"I can change light bulbs, too," Owen joked. 

Thranduil set his mug on the bedside table after a sip of the hot liquid inside. Then, he knelt up and inched across the bed so he could reach Owen. He caught the man's jaw in his hand; he leaned in and kissed him. 

"I like it when you're here," the elf murmured. 

Owen stole another kiss from his lips. "Good," he said quietly. "I'm not planning on staying away too long." 

"Good," Thranduil echoed. 

"Maybe when I get back, you can tell me what's on your mind," Owen said after a kiss to the elf's temple. 

"Owen..." 

"You've been keeping secrets." 

Thranduil looked into Owen's face. He didn't look angry, but the elf knew that would change if he continued to keep the truth from him. He knew he would have to say something about his encounter with Tauriel, ask forgiveness for keeping it from Owen, and do his best to be more open with the man if he wanted to keep his true nature hidden. 

"You keep them, too," Thranduil reminded him. 

"But, you know a lot more about me than I do about you," Owen said. "I did my research on Kendall Monroe, sure, but I don't even know Thranduil's last name." 

"I... I do not have one." 

Owen snorted. "Seriously?" 

Thranduil smiled. "I'm like Cher," he joked. 

The man smiled back. "Tell me something," he asked, a rather earnest and hopeful look on his face. 

"Orophersson," Thranduil said, using his father's name as his last name. 

It didn't feel like a lie. He'd been known as King Oropher's son as a young elf, and he understood that the tradition of man started with a similar naming convention, so it felt like it was close enough to the truth to only be considered a minor stretching of it. 

"It fits," Owen mused. 

"Please... don't go digging," the elf insisted. "I'm the last of my line, but---"

Owen cut him off with a kiss. When he pulled back, he smiled. "I won't. I've kept your first name a secret all this time, I'll keep your last name with it," he assured the elf. He kissed him again. "Thank you." 

"Does it make much difference? You know me." 

"I know the parts of you that you decide to share," Owen said. He reached up and brushed Thranduil's hair back, tucking it behind his ear. The elf shivered as the point of his ear was teased. "And I like those parts, quite a lot," he continued, "but I know there's more you keep hidden from me." 

"What if I said I was trying to keep you safe?" 

"Is that the truth?" 

"I'm not sure yet," the blond said quietly, thinking of Tauriel's words of warning. 

Owen frowned. "Maybe I should stay..." 

Thranduil put his hands on Owen's chest and shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous," he insisted. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. I've done it for years. I will be fine." 

"I knew you were in hiding, but if you're in active danger---"

"And that is why I'm in hiding," Thranduil interjected. "I avoid active danger. Unless I'm with you." 

Owen smiled a bit. "Well, it sometimes gets you hot and bothered, and I like that," he said. 

"You being in charge and tough gets me hot and bothered, too," the elf purred.

Owen growled and pulled Thranduil closer. The elf laughed softly, but his laughter was smothered by a kiss that quickly deepened and escalated. He moaned and slid his hands up and over Owen's shoulders to the back of his neck. In response, Owen's hands slid lower and cupped his ass; he used his solid grip to rock the elf into his body as the kiss continued. 

"Damn it," Owen breathed, as he pulled back. "You make leaving hard." 

Thranduil smirked at the possible double meaning of his words. Owen grinned lopsidedly in response. 

"Hold this thought until you return," the elf decided. 

"I was thinking of something else for my return," Owen admitted. 

"Yes?" 

Owen nodded, but he didn't share the thought. "It's a secret," he whispered, before kissing Thranduil again. 

The elf groaned in complaint. And then in arousal, because Owen's lips travelled down his neck. 

"You do not play fair," the elf whined. 

Owen chuckled. "I need some good material to ponder while on my trip." 

"Klaus might have a problem with that." 

The man laughed. "True," he agreed. He kissed Thranduil once more. Then, he patted his hands against the back of the elf's thighs. "Alright. Stop distracting me so I can leave." 

Thranduil reluctantly settled back on his heels. He watched Owen put the last items into his bag. Then, he put on a shirt. When he slung his bag over his shoulder, Thranduil stood and grabbed his mug of tea. Owen went to the front closet; Thranduil took a detour to the kitchen, but ended up by the door when Owen was ready to leave. 

"I'll walk you out," the elf explained. "I should go home, anyway." 

"If you want to stay here, for any reason---"

"You gave me the entry codes," the elf interrupted quietly. "I remember them." 

Owen took Thranduil's hand in his. They left the apartment, descended to the garage in the elevator, and slowly walked to their cars. 

"You'll be careful?" Owen asked. 

"I'm always careful." 

Owen smiled. "Liar." 

Thranduil smiled. "Fine. Yes. You caught me." 

"I did," he said, tugging Thranduil back into his arms. "So, be careful." 

"Yes, boss." 

Owen grunted and kissed him again. Thranduil yielded without complaint, wanting one more embrace before the man left for what was probably going to be at least a week. As much as he was looking forward to seeing Tauriel again, he knew he was going to miss Owen terribly---like he did every time the man went away to work. 

"You be careful, too," Thranduil murmured before they released each other. "If you come back with another set of stitches, whatever you're hoping to do upon your return will be postponed." 

"Fair deal, my lord," Owen teased. He punctuated his response with a gentle touch to Thranduil's left ear. He grinned when the elf shuddered in pleasure. "Stay safe and I'll be in touch when I can." 

He opened Thranduil's car door. They shared one last kiss before the elf slipped into the driver's seat and then Owen closed the door. He waved and got into his own car. They started their engines, Owen opened the garage door with the push of a button, and they left the garage. 

Owen turned right, to go to the highway and the airport. 

Thranduil turned left, to go to his apartment. 

&&&&&

As soon as he'd gotten home, he sent Tauriel a text to tell her that it was safe to visit if she wanted to avoid running into anyone. Five minutes later, there was a knock on his apartment door. 

 _"Hîr vuin,"_ she said in greeting, when he opened the door. 

He stepped aside and welcomed her into his home. _"I maren i mareg,"_ he said softly. 

Tauriel gifted him with a smile. She stepped through the doorway. When the door was closed, she dropped her backpack and removed her coat. Thranduil saw a gun in the small of her back. 

"I'd ask if you would like to use the gun safe, but I assume you'd feel safer with your weapon close at hand," he said, switching back to English.

She nodded. "If you don't mind, I'd like to keep it close." She shrugged. "Bad habits." 

He'd known what her answer would be, but he still gestured towards a lock box he kept on a table in the foyer. It was one of the many additions to his home he'd made since meeting Owen; the man didn't always carry a firearm, but when he did, he was adamant that it be stored carefully. 

"It's fine. Make yourself at home, Tauriel. Check the locks, the windows, whatever you'd like," he suggested. "I'll get us something to drink." 

"How did you know...?"

He smiled. "My friend is very cautious. I am used to his security checks." 

"Boyfriend?" Tauriel asked. When Thranduil glared, she grinned. "He is, isn't he?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm so old I've lost track of the years, Tauriel. I think 'boyfriend' is a little too juvenile a word for me to use." 

"So, what is he?"

"He's... my Owen." 

Tauriel snorted. "Sure. What does 'your Owen' do for a living?"

"Nothing I should discuss." 

She snorted again. Thranduil smiled and shrugged. "Is it too early for wine?" he asked, hoping for a change in subject. 

"I was going to suggest something stronger." 

Thranduil laughed a little. "Scotch it is," he decided. 

She smiled in agreement and picked up her bag while Thranduil turned and ducked into the kitchen. She wandered through his apartment---checking the perimetre, he assumed---and he found the scotch Owen had gifted to him when he'd returned from a successful archery competition with all of his students winning their divisions. When he returned to the living room, the female elf was sitting on his sofa, looking fairly relaxed. 

Thranduil poured them each a drink once he joined her. 

"So, let's start," he decided. "Where did you go?"

"Everywhere and nowhere," she replied. "You?"

"I've kept mainly to Europe," he admitted. "I tried North America after the revolution, but I did not enjoy it. Africa is too hot. The South Pacific was nice, but I was only visiting." 

"Better forests in 'the new world,'" she commented. She rolled her eyes. "The new world," she repeated, smiling a bit. 

"It is new to them." 

She shrugged. "It isn't, though." 

Thranduil sipped his scotch. He sighed in pleasure; it was delicious. "No, it isn't," he agreed. He spoke again: "I keep a small home... further north of here. I go there at the end of every alias to hide away from the world. I return when I feel ready." 

"How long has it been since you've been there?"

"Not very long," he replied. "Kendall Monroe is still a new man." 

"I never stay anywhere for very long," she admitted. "I usually don't get to settle down. You're lucky." 

"Do you need an identity or papers?"

Tauriel shook her head. "No, I have what I need." She smiled. "It was easier, though, before computers." 

Thranduil smiled, nodding in agreement. He watched the former soldier as she sipped her scotch and started to relax; her posture became less rigid and her eyes less narrowed. 

"What has happened?" he asked. "Why have you... altered your appearance?"

"I'd been in a car accident," she said, frowning but not tensing again. "I was on my motorcycle, leaving some ridiculous festival... a car full of drunk men decided to get my attention. 

"Now, this was before helmet laws. And, honestly, I'd done more dangerous things in my past than ride a motorcycle and I'm a good driver," she continued, "so I never thought anything of wearing one. But they clipped my back wheel and I crashed. I lost consciousness." She took a breath and looked away from her former king. "When I woke up, I was strapped to a bed, hooked up to machines, and in what looked like a jail cell."

"How..."

She shrugged. "Our blood's different. We've stood out since before the witch trials... but once science started looking into genetics, differences needed studying before acceptance," she explained. "I didn't know then how they found me. After I woke up, someone explained I fit a profile. They'd found our kind before. I'd been apprehended to be studied." 

Thranduil frowned. "Men know of elves?"

"Some do." 

He exhaled slowly. He did not know what to think of that information, so he set it aside and focused on the history Tauriel was sharing with him. 

"You escaped," he prompted her. 

"It was easiest the first time. Security systems then usually meant some lights, barbed wire, landmines, and a few men with weapons," she said. "Since technology's improved, so have their methods of securing military bases." 

"What were they looking for?" 

It seemed like a shadow flickered through her eyes. The former Elvenking knew that whatever had been happening was awful, by the look on her face alone. 

"They are experimenting with our kind," she explained. "First it was studying our blood. And our abilities. But, then..." she trailed off and drained from her glass. Thranduil promptly refilled it. "But, then, there was torture. Barbarous treatment. Even the filth from Dol Guldur passes as respectable when compared to what these _doctors_ did to us. 

"Someone had the idea to test our blood in human subjects. It makes them stronger, faster. Did you know it also makes them live longer? When they discovered that... well, it took some time, but when it became clear that their aging process could be slowed, too, they resumed hunting us." 

After a sip of scotch and a soothing touch from Thranduil, the red-haired elf continued her story. Switching from Elvish to English and back again, she described the type of people who would hunt for elves in the world and all the things they would do to their kind.

She told him about how they tortured her for information about her abilities, how they forced her to fight for them by threatening her life and the life of other elves in their "care." 

She told him about the experiments the first time she was captured, when science wasn't as advanced as it presently was---about cutting a limb off of another elf, a male from Imladris whose name was unfamiliar (thankfully, but only slightly) to Thranduil, to see if they would grow back, and about the breeding programme they tried to initiate (both with elf-elf and elf-human pairs). 

She told him in more detail about the genetics experiments they were conducting the second time she was captured. They'd been injecting soldiers (or mercenaries, she couldn't tell) with blood drawn from elves; sometimes, the men died immediately, but sometimes they flourished and developed heightened senses and strengths. 

She told him some people were still trying to start a breeding programme, but beyond their slow and often unsuccessful mating cycles, the elves were disappearing or becoming harder to find. The hunt was slowly being abandoned. In the beginning, there were a few groups seeking elves, but at that point, as far as she knew there were only a couple of military divisions still hunting them as a side, top-secret project. 

When Tauriel stopped talking, Thranduil noticed the sun had started its descent; his living room windows were cast in shadows and there was a chill in the air. He refilled their glasses again but did not pick up his own. Rage was simmering inside of him, threatening to boil. The thought of the horrors of his people had been enduring made him want to strike out in revenge. 

"Do you have information about these groups?" he asked quietly. 

She nodded. She produced a small flash drive from a pocket. "I made a copy for you," she explained as she put it in his hand. "I thought you might want it. Just in case." 

"Thank you." 

"If you are going to take action. I want to come." 

"I thought you might say that," he murmured. He smirked. "If they still have some elves as prisoner, I would take pleasure in punishing them and rescuing our kin." 

"I would, too. I have tried, but being on my own makes it difficult." 

"You are not alone anymore," he told her.

He took her hand in his own. Whatever power was left in him was pulsing; he wondered if she could feel it, too. When he'd spoken to Galadriel before her departure, she'd mentioned that he, too, should consider leaving because she felt that any elf would fade from existence if they lingered too long. He wondered if that fading she believed in was less magical than he'd originally believed (because there were always stories of elves fading and disappearing); he'd felt weaker when using his gifts, even a little, but sitting with Tauriel made him feel as though he could do anything, with little weakness to his strength. 

"How long can you stay?" he asked. 

"You want me to stay?" she asked in reply. 

Thranduil nodded. "Here, you can sleep safely, and it would be good... to be in the company of another elf," he said quietly. 

She smiled. "I would like that. The few that are left... we don't stay together." 

"You'll tell me about them?"

"I will." 

He smiled back at her. "Good. In the meantime, why don't you take a shower and try to nap? I'll order some food later, once you've rested," he offered. "And, I don't have to work today, so I can keep watch if you need me to so you can sleep." 

Tauriel's eyes widened. "You would do that? For me, my lord?" 

"Of course," he replied. He still felt the urge to protect her---and it had only strengthened after he heard her story. "And if there's anything else I can do..." 

"A few hours of real rest would be plenty," she interrupted. "I don't sleep well anymore." 

"That is a hard way to exist." 

Her eyes flashed with that darkness again. "I exist to honour those that died." 

"You need to _live_ for yourself," he reminded her. 

"Yes, my lord. I know." 

He sighed. "And do stop calling me that. I am no king anymore." 

"You would allow me to call you by your name?" 

"Unless you have a nickname you'd prefer," he said, smiling a little again. 

She smiled a little, too. "Thranduil will do fine," she smiled. "Any nickname I had for you when I was captain of your guard would probably be inappropriate to share." 

Thranduil smirked. He put a bit more scotch in Tauriel's glass. "Drink," he instructed. "Take a shower. And I'll stay up and read while you sleep." 

"Is... your Owen returning?" 

"He is off on a job," Thranduil told her. "He didn't tell me when _exactly_ he would be returning, but I do not expect him any time soon." 

Tauriel nodded. She barely stifled a yawn; Thranduil could see the promise of a good sleep weighing on her alertness. 

"Go before you fall asleep out here." 

Tauriel leaned in and kissed his cheek. _"De fêl,"_ she whispered. 

Thranduil squeezed her hand in silent response. He watched her stand and make her way to the bedroom. When the shower was running, he took the same path; he found a pair of jogging pants and a tank top for her to wear in case she had nothing in her bag and left them on his bed. He'd changed the bedding that morning, so he knew he wouldn't have to do much more. 

He turned down the duvet and left the room. Then, he picked up a book off of one of his shelves that he hadn't read in a long time and settled in to keep guard over his tiny kingdom; he was fairly sure no one would come after them, but he wanted to give Tauriel the peace of mind she needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Ci vêr = Are you well (good)?   
> Hîr vuin = My lord   
> I maren i mareg = My home is your home  
> De fêl =You are generous/just (thank you) 
> 
> (Hopefully I didn't make too many elvish mistakes. If I did, and you can, please correct me. ) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Tauriel catch up. He sees evidence of what has happened to the captured elves. Owen learns he has company while the man's away.

Reading did not hold Thranduil's attention for very long. He kept turning the flash drive over in his fingers, wondering what was stored on it; after thirty minutes of trying to read the same page, he abandoned the attempt and went in search of his laptop. 

He rarely used the contraption. He had his phone and using that was enough frustration in a day. Owen would occasionally send him videos and photos of his time away, though, and those he saved to his computer. He didn't know if Owen knew he was saving everything, but he really didn't care; technology had provided him with a way to save startlingly vivid mementos of their relationship and he was going to store as much as he could for the time when he had to be without the man who was rapidly overshadowing many of his relationships with many of the other reincarnations of his first mortal love. 

He booted it up and inserted the drive into the appropriately shaped plug. A few double-clicks later, he was looking at photographs. Some of them belonged to militaries---both Russian and American, it seemed, judging by the identification tags at the bottom of each image---and were of befores and afters as well as of personnel and prisoners. Some of them were personal photographs, as far as he could tell, and were of damage done and, in many cases, healed. 

The military photographs made him feel varying shades of disgust, sadness, and fury. He saw pictures of the internal organs of an elf; each of those images had notations on the side that described the organs and their functions. He saw another picture of an elf without his right arm, and all that was written on the bottom was the phrase _"Regrowth not possible."_ It made his stomach turn to think that anyone could experiment like that on another living being. There were also pictures of bruising and cuts---showing the healing progression by recording the time and date each photo was taken. One of the faces looked familiar, and Thranduil was certain the elf had visited his castle more than once. She must have been from Lothlorièn, he realised, as few from Imladris repeatedly made the journey to his home; he'd counted Elrond among his close friends (even though they rarely saw eye to eye) but he'd dealt more with Celeborn and Galadriel, despite the differences in distance. 

A few pictures showed some sort of obstacle course. There were soldiers standing guard while elves were forced to run the race. It must have been a test of speed and skill, Thranduil realised. The most recent photographs of that theme showed a large man demonstrating his strength at the same time as a slender---and nearly malnourished---elf demonstrated his. There was something about the man lifting weights that caught his attention; he assumed it was the fact that he was roughly the size of a mountain, in width as well as height, and closed the window on his screen. 

The personal photographs, the earliest with handwritten notes in Sindarin scrawled on them and the latest with typed captions in the same language superimposed upon them, gave him small measures of hope. A few showed broken bodies, but others showed those bodies healing. One showed a pregnant elf, staring back at him with hollow eyes as she cradled her swollen belly; the next image showed that same elf holding a little baby, smiling and looking so much more healthy. He hoped he'd have a chance to ask Tauriel about the child when she woke. Elvish children were rare gifts; he suspected the child was half-elven, but that notion did not cheapen the gift. 

By the time he'd gotten to the text documents---transcribed personal accounts---his stomach felt as if it were tied in knots. He couldn't imagine deciding to have the tips of his own ears removed, but he understood why Tauriel had done what she had done. She'd needed to look more human, to blend in and give herself another weapon (camouflage) against those who would do commit such atrocities to their kind. 

Thranduil stood up. He looked out the windows of his apartment, checked the doors, and then went to brew a cup of tea. He thought about drowning his rage and sorrow in the rest of the scotch, but he wanted to honour his promise to Tauriel and he could not keep watch if he were inebriated. So, he did his best to push aside thoughts of what had been done to the elves---to _his_ people---and tried to calm the rage swirling up inside of him at the devastation those people had caused his elves. No matter what he tried, the rage continued to build; it drew upon the deep well of guilt and sadness he hid from everyone, and before he knew it he had worked himself up into an emotional maelstrom. 

He'd been hiding, living with the loves of his life, and he hadn't known his people were in such trouble! He should have known, he should have helped them to safety, he should have---

"Thranduil?" 

He hastily wiped his tears away before he turned to face the redhead in the doorway. She looked concerned and sleep-rumpled, wearing the clothes he'd left out for her. He could see tattoos on her exposed skin, but also more signs of the war she'd been forced to fight. 

"Did you sleep well?" he asked. "I'm making some tea, if---"

"Tea would be lovely," she murmured. 

He nodded and continued the work he'd been trying to do before his emotions got the better of him. 

"I might come visit more, now that I know what a comfortable bed you have," she added, her tone light. "And that shower! It is almost like the gentle showers at home. I used to love those nights, when the summer rain would---" she broke off and smiled again. "Anyway, you have done well for yourself, Thranduil." 

Thranduil shrugged. "I should have known what was happening to you, to my people," he muttered. "I abandoned you all for my own selfish reasons." 

"We did not know you were with us all this time," Tauriel reminded him. "We thought you were lost to grief. And even if you had been with us---"

"I could have tried to keep you safe!" he exclaimed. "We could have---"

"Hidden away in your secret home?"

"Why is that a bad thing?" he demanded. "We would have been safe!"

"There is no such thing as safe! There never has been!" she shot back. "Even in your castle, the fortress doors drawn shut, we were still in danger, my lord!" 

Thranduil's anger crumpled away in the face of the truth he had denied while he was king. "Have I failed you all?" he asked quietly. 

She shook her head. "Never," she assured him. "You endured. Without your power in the world with us, we might not have survived. We might have faded. Perhaps you sustained us."  

"I wish I could be sure---"

"I am." 

"What they're doing is awful," Thranduil said quietly. "I feel so... much." 

Tauriel took his hand in hers, a move she never would have tried when he was king and she was the captain of the guard. "I feel like that most days, too," she admitted. "Do not let this drown out the love in your life, Thranduil. Let it make you that much more fierce to protect what is important to you." 

"You should take your own advice." 

Her smile quirked a little at one end. "I am a soldier." 

"You are still worthy of love." 

"I find comfort where I can," she assured him. 

Thranduil turned away from her when the kettle started to boil. She had always been sure of herself, but the many years in solitude and danger had made her even less afraid to tell him the truth. He found it unnerving; he also found it to be a comfort. He'd been fine, believing that he was alone, because he also believed Bard's reincarnations were reason enough to live on; feeling another elf by his side, especially one that he'd known for so long, was an exhilirating sensation that couldn't be completely dampended by the serious conversation topics. 

"You know how we elves love," she added, after a few moments in silence. "I doubt I can give my heart to another."

He nodded. He did know, all too well. When his wife died, he was sure he would never find love again. She'd been his match, his heart. It had taken a long time, a lot of pain, and Bard's flirtatious, affectionate persistence to realise that he could love again. He doubted Tauriel would ever open herself up to the possibility of loving another, no matter how brief a time she had been loved in return; her experiences made her unwilling to trust humans, and he could not say that he blamed her. 

They worked in silence; she found the milk and honey in his fridge and cupboards as he brewed their tea. They ended up at the kitchen table---after Tauriel closed his laptop and set it in the living room, as if distance from it would protect them from its data---and a quiet peace settled over them. They were both thinking of other things, certainly, but Thranduil wouldn't have sent her away to brood in private. He wanted to keep her close as long as he could, enjoying the way he felt around another elf and wanting to keep her safe. 

"How long will you stay?"

"I'll leave tomorrow," she replied, much to his displeasure. "You will not want me here when your partner returns. Too many questions will be asked, and I do not want to make you lie to him." 

"Owen keeps his own secrets and I am used to keeping secrets from him," Thranduil explained. "You will stay, as long as you'd like. We'll have a good meal tonight. I have to teach tomorrow, but you might enjoy coming along, and we'll go from there." 

Tauriel frowned. "Thranduil... I don't... I do not wish to bring danger upon you. Are you sure?"

"I am." 

"But---"

"My students are usually able to hit the targets, so there shouldn't be much danger from stray arrows." 

Tauriel's frown melted into a small smile. "You teach archery?" she asked. 

He nodded. "I do. Would you like to go the range? It closes early tonight, but I have the keys." 

She nodded, too, quickly and eagerly. He smiled and reached out to squeeze her hand. He knew if she continued to stay he would have to explain Owen's resemblance to Bard and they would almost certainly end up discussing those who were looking for elves to study, but they would also sit outside at night to watch the stars and they would challenge each other in aiming their arrows. They could also spar at full strength---the risk of Tauriel besting him both terrified him and made him hunger for the battle. 

"I have another handmade bow," he said, smiling again. "It isn't as decorated as mine, but---"

"It will do," she murmured. "An elven bow," she said, almost to herself. "It has been too long since I've touched one. No one I've met makes them. It's easier to buy a handgun."

"There is elven steel in my weapons bag, too, Tauriel." 

He wouldn't have believed her eyes could go that soft and doe-like if he hadn't seen it happen. He grinned. "We will shoot and spar," he decided. He rose to his feet and went in search of his bag of weapons. She followed him without even a brief moment's hesitation. 

As Tauriel took out one of his swords and ran her fingers along the blade's edge, he watched her entire bearing change. Gone was the angry female who had been hunted and tortured, scared to stay in one place for too long, and in her place was someone who much more closely resembled the captain of his guard. 

"Do you think you can take me?" she asked. 

Thranduil smirked. "Do you think you can take me?" he challenged. 

She grinned. "I am game to try." 

&&&&&

 

He was exhausted. He was grinning. He felt unbelievably good considering the workout he just experienced. 

Tauriel laughed as she pushed herself off the ground. "That was..."

"Fun?"

She nodded. "I forgot that a good fight could be fun," she mused. "Next time, I'll get you back." 

Thranduil laughed. He slipped the covered elastic from his hair and gave his head a shake. "I look forward to it," he said honestly. "I had fun, too," he added. "Owen and I spar, but I never let him see what remains of my full strength." 

"I've been with other elves," she said, "when escaping our prison or evading capture, but it hasn't felt... like this." 

"Running for your life is different than running for pleasure," he reminded her. "You were all so drained, emotionally as well as physically, I doubt you'd have been able to feel the elven bond."

"Or, it's your strength," she reasoned. 

He rolled his eyes. "Don't give me too much credit. I feel different, too, after spending time in your company. Lighter, if possible."

Before she could say anything else, he spoke again. "Will you tell me about some of your tattoos?"

Tauriel smiled. "I wondered if you were going to ask about them." 

"I wondered if I should," he admitted. 

"You can always ask," she told him. "I just might not answer." 

"I..." 

Tauriel chuckled. "Oh, come closer and look. I'll explain what I can." 

At that invitation, Thranduil circled her, looking at the tattoos he could see. Since she was wearing shorts and a tank top, there were plenty of places to look and plenty of tattoos to study. 

On her back, there were what looked like paint-splattered, abstract wings; if he looked down (and she helped him by tugging her shirt down a bit), he could see a bit written in Sindarin, _Tôl sûl uin amrûn._ When he asked her why she cared if there was an east wind coming, she told him it was in a story she read once, about a detective, who had mentioned to his partner-in-(solving-)crime that a wind was coming from that direction and it would leave a "cleaner, better, stronger land" when the storm passed. 

"I like that idea," she said after explaining it to him. "I have to have hope, or else I won't survive." She shrugged, released the hem of her top, and added: "It's also covering up a few scars. They put a tracking chip in me the last time. I had to have someone dig it out." 

Thranduil nodded. "I like the technique used," he commented. "More like an actual painting." 

"Me, too.  An elf did it a few years ago," she said, smiling at him as he stepped to her side. "He runs a tattoo parlour in Galway." 

"Must be why it's so lovely," he said with a little smile. 

Tauriel chuckled. Then, her expression turned serious. She put her hand to her chest, covering another tattoo, before nodding and revealing it to him. Thranduil could sense that tattoo was particularly important, so he schooled his features appropriately and prepared to give it the attention it deserved. 

It was a blue-grey oval. It had lines of marbling through it, but its striking feature was the line of runes through the middle of it. He recognised it; it took him a few minutes, but he recalled the stone as belonging to the dwarf prince, as being the stone Tauriel left with his body. 

"It was a promise," she explained quietly. "A promise to return." 

"He may yet return to you," Thranduil said in a similarly quiet voice. He was thinking of Bard as he said it, wondering if somehow the man had made that promise to him and had done something to have it fulfilled, over and over again; however, in that moment, he also wished Tauriel could have such a return, even once. "It's beautiful." 

"It's one of the oldest," she whispered. "Once it was marginally socially acceptable for women to have tattoos, I wanted something to remember those I carry in my heart." 

She held up her wrist. On the inside, there was a little green leaf. Thranduil lifted his own hand, but waited for her nod before brushing his fingers over it. There was no mistaking who that leaf represented. Memories of his son made his heart ache as he touched the design. 

"I miss him," Thranduil whispered. 

She nodded. "As do I. You raised a good son. He was one of my best friends and I would have honoured him forever if things had been different."

"You still honour him," the male elf assured her. 

There were other simple designs, some tribal and celtic in nature, and he could see that those covered scars from the ordeals she'd suffered. He chose to comment on the skill of the artist, praising their talent and canvas, and moved on, until he saw two little words written in their language on her ankle. 

_"Noro lim,"_ he said, repeating the words. "You need a reminder to run quickly?"

She chuckled. "Sometimes, yes. But, for a time, it was a motto. I wanted to keep it close." 

He smiled. Her smile stretched into a grin. "Do you have any tattoos?"

Thranduil shook his head, still smiling. "No, I think anything I would choose would be difficult to explain to Owen. And believe me, he would continue to ask questions until I gave in and explained." 

"Tenacious, is he?"

"Determined." 

"What have you told him so far?"

"My name. That I'm in hiding. He knows I use an alias. He knows I've fought in battle, but no specific time or location. I told him my father trained me to use swords as well as a bow," Thranduil replied. "I had to make up a last name, but apart from that---"

"What last name did you use?"

"Orophersson." 

She shrugged. "Close enough to the truth." 

"It isn't enough for him," Thranduil admitted. "He wants to push for more, but is showing remarkable restraint. Luckily, he has secrets of his own he cannot share, so we are in a holding pattern of sorts." 

"Will you run before you have to tell him more?"

Thranduil shook his head. "No. Never." 

The idea of evading Owen hurt his heart. He could never do that. Something of that truth must have shown on his face, because the next thing Tauriel did was smile. 

"Whatever you are thinking of saying, restrain yourself," Thranduil warned. 

Tauriel laughed. The sound was light and chime-like, a happier sound than any he'd heard her make so far. He smiled and walked past her, to where their bottles of water were located. It was time to hydrate and head home. 

&&&&&

 

Through the rest of the week, Tauriel stayed. 

She helped him teach his classes during the day. His female students looked up to Tauriel in admiration, seeing what they believed they could become if they studied and practiced more; his male students tried flirting with her at every turn and Thranduil enjoyed the way she rebuffed their attempts. 

At night, they sparred if they weren't running through the city---over rooftops and other heights---pretending it was their forest. Thranduil hadn't explored the city in this way, but once Tauriel decided it was nothing like London, with its many cameras, and made the suggestion that they go have an adventure of their own, it was difficult to keep him away from it. They ran across buildings and leapt off of their ledges before swinging onto other platforms and climbing up whatever would bear their weight. 

They would come back in the late hours, no matter what they'd done, exhausted and smiling. With each passing day, they found their speeds and intensity increasing; Thranduil did not ask her how she felt, but he knew that he felt more connected to the world than he had in a long time. 

Upon their return, they would either go straight to bed---and sofa, as Tauriel preferred they switch places each night---or they would stay up talking. They talked about everything and anything---their pasts, the people hunting elves, the events they'd witnessed, along with a variety of other trivial topics. 

It was in those conversations that he learned the child from the photographs lived; her mother had taken her to America, hoping the heavy populations would be enough camouflage. Tauriel kept in touch with them when she could. She told him the last time they'd been in contact, the girl (a young woman at that point) was happy and as safe as she could be. She didn't know about her heritage, though, and her mother wished to keep it that way if at all possible. 

Thranduil found that troubling, but he understood the desire to keep one's child safe. Survival was more important than history---especially when faced with the dangers that the elves had attracted by continuing to exist. 

He knew without love in his life, he would not have survived, but he began to hope that with Tauriel as a presence in his life, he would begin to thrive again. 

Saturday was a rainy day. There were no classes to teach and they had hours to go before they could take part in their nightly activities; they holed themselves up in the apartment and started to cook, while discussing light-hearted subjects. 

They were discussing a particularly funny moment when Legolas had snuck away to ride his father's elk---and ended up lost in the woods---when the phone rang. He answered it laughing at the memory of his young son, wet and muddy and furiously trying to get back on the disinterested elk, with little success. 

"There's a wonderful sound," Owen murmured in his ear. "Guess you don't miss me enough yet," he added teasingly. 

"I miss you plenty," Thranduil murmured back, laughter still in his voice. He stepped away from Tauriel and sat down at the table. "How are you? When are you coming back?"

"In a day or two, probably," the man replied. 

"And?"

"You were right. She's our girl. I even think she can be tempted without the enticements we'd previously discussed," he said cryptically. Thranduil understood his meaning; Owen believed she could persuaded to join the team without use of blackmail. "I'll talk with you about it when I return." 

The blond smiled. "I can't wait. For that... and other pursuits." 

Owen chuckled. "I'm looking forward to it, too, elf." 

At Owen's choice of words, Tauriel's eyes widened. Thranduil shook his head; it wouldn't be until he ended the call that he could explain why Owen called him that. 

"What have you been up to?" Owen asked him. 

"Mostly my classes. A friend stopped by to visit," he said, deciding to go with the truth. "She's an archer, too. She's been helping me teach when we aren't catching up." 

"That's nice," Owen commented. "That explains the laughter." 

The elf frowned at the tone of voice Owen employed. It was pleasant enough, but there was an undercurrent of tension Thranduil could not fully identify. 

"We were just talking about better days."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He immediately started to backpeddle, not caring if he sounded like a fool. "I mean, before, when we weren't in hiding. Meeting you made these days better, I didn't mean---"

Owen chuckled. "Relax, Thran. I understood." 

"Oh." 

"I made your days better, hmm?" he asked quietly. 

"Yes, definitely... immeasureably." 

He made a quiet, pleased sound. "Good. Same goes for me, in case you're curious." 

Thranduil blushed. "I... good," he said in a soft voice. "Very good. If you were here... I'd... well, I'd show my appreciation." 

"Oh, would you?" Owen purred. "I am going to spend some time tonight imagining that." 

Thranduil would forever deny the sound he made in response to that insinuation. It came out as a cross between a moan and a whine, a little breathy in the middle. Tauriel turned and blinked at him---making him blush---but quickly turned back as if she did not want to intrude. 

"I wish I was recording this call so I could play that over and over," Owen growled. 

"Come home, and try to make me make it again." 

Owen sighed. "As soon as I can, love. I promise. We're almost done here." 

"Good." 

"You two are being safe?" Owen asked. "You make it sound like she's hiding, too... so---"

"We're fine." 

Owen clucked his tongue once before speaking. "Good. If that changes, go to my place," he said firmly. "If either of you suspect something is wrong---"

"Owen." 

He sighed again. "I won't take any risks with your safety, Thran. Promise me." 

"I will. I mean, I promise." 

"Good. And, don't make your friend feel like she she has to run off before I return," Owen added, that strange tone creeping back into his voice. "I'd like to meet her, if you don't mind." 

"I don't mind," Thranduil said honestly.

He knew Tauriel might mind (and he knew their meeting might make Owen ask even more questions), but hiding Tauriel from him would be worse in the long run. He ended the call with a few murmured words of affection that the man returned; then, he set down his phone and looked up as Tauriel turned around. 

"Elf?" she inquired. 

"It's my ears. He thinks I'm a man. He just... it's something he says to tease me." 

"Are you sure?"

"Not completely, but I know I'm safe with him," Thranduil told her. At the look of disbelief on her face, he said, "Seriously, Tauriel, it is nothing. He says I remind him of an elf from a fairy tale." 

"He could be saying that to evade---"

Thranduil cut her off. "He is not like that." 

"But..." 

"You will understand when you see him. He will not do anything to hurt me." 

She scowled. "Why?" 

Thranduil sighed. The time had come to tell his truth. He looked into Tauriel's eyes and started his story. He began with his time of mourning, continued on to his time with Cadoc and how similar but different he was to Bard, moved on to Erik, glossed over the others before ending with Michael and Owen. When he finished his story, he could see disbelief on Tauriel's face. 

"He dreams about Smaug," the former king added. "He knows details no one but anyone there could ever know. There's no written record, Tauriel, there is no way to explain it." 

"But... how is this possible?" 

"The Valar? Magic? I do not know," Thranduil replied. "But that is how I know he won't betray me. I feel it." 

Tauriel frowned. "I hope you are right." 

"If you stay, you will see. He is Bard. But different." 

"Have any of the others remembered or dreamed of the events of the king's life?" she asked. 

He shrugged. "Not to my knowledge. I want to believe it means something important, but it may simply be coincidence or consequence---and that he is the first to tell me. But I believe Michael, of all the others, would have said something." 

Tauriel smiled a little. "If he is a reincarnation of Bard, this is something truly remarkable." 

Thranduil nodded. "I know," he said quietly. 

"Do not waste a minute of your time together," she murmured. "If it is Bard, again and again, you are being given an invaluable gift." 

He nodded again. 

"Now, I understand why you never left to be with your family," she commented. "Leaving would separate you from him, not just his memory." 

"I knew before Cadoc crossed my path that I could not leave this world," Thranduil admitted. "The idea of being separated from his final resting place... I could not." 

"I know," she murmured. "I wanted to stay as close to Erebor as I could." She paused and asked: "What do you think Legolas would say?" 

"Honestly? He would roll his eyes and comment about my appetite for mortals, like he could judge," he replied, muttering in a dry tone.

He'd known about Legolas' affection for the ranger, no matter how much the younger elf denied it upon his return from the man's coronation. His son's ability to love those who were already loved was a curse, he was sure, but he could not fault him for his choices; his heart was drawn to strong personalities with good character and a deep capacity for love.

"He understood my decision to stay and we parted on good terms." He reached down into his shirt and pulled out the nearly fossilised piece of wood from his bow. "I carry a piece of his favourite bow with me always, to remember, but I do hope he has been having wonderful adventures with his friends and not looking back on his past." 

Tauriel smiled. "I like the idea of him exploring and adventuring. It is as he should be." 

Thranduil smiled back at her. "You were good for him," he admitted. "You calmed his temper and supported him without encouraging too many flights of fancy." 

"I care deeply for your son," she said, smiling. 

"I know," he said softly. "I am glad you are here, Tauriel. I am glad you reached out." 

"As am I," she murmured. She grinned. "And you better prepare yourself, because I will best you tomorrow night when we spar." 

Thranduil laughed. "We shall see." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Tôl sûl uin amrûn = Wind is coming from the east   
> Noro lim = Run fast 
> 
> (If I've picked a wrong phrase, or written it wrong, please let me know!) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you're still enjoying the story :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen returns.

They had been sparring using as much of their elfish strength as they dared, whirling and feinting and clashing swords, when Thranduil realised they weren't alone in the shooting range anymore. Owen was in the building. He smelled of stale spaces and sweat and a bit of too-bitter coffee; he'd come directly there from the plane, Thranduil realised, perhaps because he was more than a little curious about his friend. 

Tauriel turned and saw Owen in the doorway as Thranduil lunged. She recovered in enough time to block his blade with her own, but not in enough time to remain standing. She fell; she yelped when she tried to rise unaided. 

_"Nêg!"_

After sparing Owen a smile and a wave, Thranduil set down his sword and approached her. "What is it?" he asked. 

"Ankle," she admitted. "Old injury. I forgot to favour it." 

"You have been getting stronger every day," Thranduil reminded her. He believed that their strengths would improve the longer they spent together; it was the way of elves, to be stronger and more powerful when they were together. The changes in her after only a week were remarkable and he suspected she would continue to heal and improve if she stayed longer. He smiled at her. "It will come." 

She nodded. He helped her stand and then they turned to their visitor. Thranduil made sure she could stand before walking over to greet his lover. Owen pulled him close and kissed him. Thranduil would deny ever making the breathy sound of pleasure he made if anyone teased him about it later, but it seemed that Owen enjoyed hearing it. 

"I'm glad you came," the blond elf whispered. 

"Ivory and Klaus weren't nearly as nice company as you are," Owen said quietly. "I'd apologise for intruding, but..."

"You're curious. And suspicious." 

"Can you blame me?" 

Thranduil shook his head. He knew it _was_ suspicious, a friend coming out of the woodwork as soon as Owen left the country. He had meant it to be possible for Tauriel to shuffle in and out of his life with Owen being none the wiser; however, he thought the risk of Owen's suspicions was worth having Tauriel stay longer. 

"I wasn't trying to keep her from you," he told Owen. "If that's your concern."

Owen sighed. 

"I didn't know she was still alive," Thranduil continued gently. He reached up and touched Owen's jaw. "I was surprised when I saw her. I... I wasn't ready for her to disappear yet. I know how this looks, Owen. But, it wasn't my intention to be deceptive."

He studied the blond elf. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he nodded. 

"And, you---"

Owen and Thranduil both turned to Tauriel. She was staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the man holding onto Thranduil's hips. 

"The woman gawking, her name is---" 

_"Elo!"_ she breathed, amazed by the sight of a man who could have easily been the Dragonslayer. She bowed her head as she brought her hand up to her chest in a sort of salute. _"Gwannas lû and."_

Owen glanced at Thranduil, eyebrows raised. Thranduil sighed. "That is not her name." 

Tauriel looked at her former king and blushed. "I... I am sorry, but you did not prepare me adequately," she said before she turned her focus back to Owen. "I wasn't expecting... well, you remind me of someone." She put on a bright smile and extended her hand. "You can call me Tori," she said. 

Owen smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. "That's not your real name, though." 

"Owen..." 

He ignored Thranduil's attempt to stop his inquisition and asked a question: "Are you putting Thran in danger by being here?" 

"I took every precaution traveling here," Tauriel insisted. "I wasn't going to stay, but... I have a hard time going against his wishes." 

Thranduil snorted. 

Tauriel rolled her eyes. "I disobey once---"

"At least three times," Thranduil muttered. 

"---and he never lets me forget it," she said to Owen. His expression was still cool---and rather unwelcoming, Thranduil thought---and Tauriel shifted uncomfortably under its weight. "If you want me to leave, I understand. Trust is hard to earn and---" she stopped and inhaled sharply. "My name is Tauriel, but like Thranduil, I would prefer to keep it a secret." 

Owen nodded. "Owen Shaw," he replied, finally extending his hand. She accepted the gesture. Thranduil didn't relax, though, because he didn't think Owen was finished evaluating her. "How long have you known Thran?" 

"His family adopted me when my parents died," she said quietly. Thranduil was relieved she was sticking as close to the truth as possible. "I worked for him for a few years before I broke protocol and was dismissed." 

"Why?" 

"I was in love with someone. I was not thinking clearly." 

"Neither was I," the blond elf explained. "Tauriel---" 

"He needs to understand," the red-haired elf said firmly, eyes never leaving Owen's face. "I am loyal to Thranduil. And that would mean I am loyal to you, too," she added. "Thranduil is my kin. One of the very few left in this world. I will _never_ betray him." 

"Is anyone after you?" Owen asked. 

"No one in particular at the moment," she replied. "But I would not like to cross paths with someone who would find me valuable." 

"Information?" 

"Yes. To start." 

Owen studied her. He never released his hold on Thranduil, but his attention was squarely focused on the redhead before them. The former Elvenking had seen that expression on his face when evaluating intelligence before embarking on a job, and he knew Owen was taking similar care in evaluating Tauriel. 

In response, the examined elf raised her chin, almost haughtily. Thranduil saw worry and doubt in her eyes, but after a quick glance back at Owen's face, he saw approval in the man's expression. Something about her attitude pleased him; the blond made a mental note to ask him about it later, if he had a chance. 

"If you're a friend of Thran's, I look forward to getting to know you," Owen said quietly. He patted Thranduil's hip and smiled. "So... did someone win, or was it another of your practice exercises?" 

Thranduil kissed his cheek. He doubted Owen was done---he expected the man would ask him many questions once they were alone---but he couldn't resist giving in to the affection he felt for Owen's attempt at being accepting. 

"I was just about to win again when you arrived," the blond told him. 

Tauriel snorted. "No, I was going to win again. I was luring you into a trap." 

"Doubtful," Thranduil replied. 

Owen kissed his lover's temple. "Show off for me, elf," he murmured. 

"My pleasure," Thranduil told him in a purring voice. 

He slid from Owen's grasp and collected his sword. Tauriel followed. They met in the middle of the nearly-empty room---they'd taken to moving as many of the tables, benches, and targets as they could when they chose to spar in that way---and saluted each other. 

Then, they attacked. 

Thranduil lunged; Tauriel dodged. Their blades met, they scraped, and they parted. Tauriel leapt off of a fixed counter and Thranduil only had seconds to tuck and roll away from her. She yelled, wordlessly, and he grinned. The next time she attacked, he kicked out and managed to unbalance her. She wobbled for a moment before going after him again. 

They continued on, chasing and evading in different ways, until Thranduil was beginning to wonder if they should call the match a draw. Owen had to be bored, he silently reasoned, and---

He'd moved to give himself a moment to turn his head, so he could sneak a glance at Owen, and that was when Tauriel struck. 

She swept her leg out, catching both of his. He fell flat on his back. 

_"Mae garnen,"_ he praised her in a very quiet voice, knowing only she would hear him clearly. 

Tauriel stepped closer and grinned. She held out a hand for him. _"I nawen ben---"_ she'd started to agree, but Thranduil tugged. She flipped through the air and landed on her back so her head was near his, their feet pointing in opposite directions. _"---nawedh!"_

She'd finished her agreement and then dissolved into laughter. Thranduil chuckled as he slowly pushed himself into a lounging position. 

Owen's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark. Thranduil stood. He helped Tauriel rise, they embraced, and then he went to his human lover. 

"You've been holding back on me," he commented. "I've never seen you move like that." 

"I... well, we've been training all week. That's all."

The man studied him closely, brows drawn together, and then he nodded. "Next time we train together, elf, I want you to stop holding back," he said quietly. He tucked his face into the side of Thranduil's head. He nipped at the blond's ear, chuckling when he shivered in reaction to the nibble. "I want a private demonstration. I may or may not take you up against the wall after," he whispered. He nudged the elf's head and pointed with one hand towards a stretch of wall without a counter secured to it. "That spot over there, I think," he added, still whispering. 

Thranduil gifted him with a whimper. Owen replied with another chuckle. 

Tauriel was busying herself with their weaponry, packing it up securely in Thranduil's bag, but the blond elf knew she could hear them. Even if he hadn't known, the smirk on her face would have given her awareness away. Thranduil fixed her with his stoniest glare; it was made ineffective by the blush in his cheeks. 

"Anything you want," Thranduil said to the man. 

Owen kissed his jaw in reply. 

&&&&&

The "anything" Owen wanted, later that night, was answers to some of his questions.

Tauriel excused herself to the kitchen when they returned from the shooting range. Thranduil had expected she'd sneak out onto the building's roof, but was surprised by her choice of rooms. Before he'd been able to fully contemplate her decision, however, Owen all but dragged the blond elf into his bedroom and quietly closed the door behind them. 

"So." 

Thranduil moved past the man and sat down on his bed. "What do you want to know?" he asked. 

"For starters, how did you find each other?"

The elf frowned. "When we were staking out Mister Fitzpatrick," he replied. Owen opened his mouth to say something, but Thranduil quickly continued. "Technically, we crossed paths in Berlin, but I didn't know. She thought it was me and tracked me down." 

Owen scowled. "She can do that? How?"

"We... we have patterns," Thranduil said, trying to explain. "She knew how to find me because she knows me. She grew up in my home! She isn't a threat. Not to me, and not to you." 

"She found you while you were out of town, Thran," the man said quietly. "How did she do that? Are you leaving a trail of---"

"I would never do that!" Thranduil exclaimed. "I cannot allow myself to be found!" 

"Why?" Owen asked. "And how---" he broke off and brushed his fingers over his chin. "She's the one that hit you."

"Owen..." 

"She hit you!" Owen very nearly shouted. "Who does she think she is?! I'll---"

"You'll do no such thing, whatever it is you were going to say," Thranduil interrupted. He did his best to keep his voice calm. "It was my fault. I grabbed her, not seeing her face, and I pushed her into the wall. She reacted."

Owen exhaled. His body was tense, tight, as if he were spoiling for a fight. Thranduil knew if he weren't so scared of the man learning the _whole_  truth, he'd have been aroused by the sight of Owen preparing to go into battle to defend his honour. 

"I don't like that she hit you." 

"You watched her knock me down---"

"That's different. And you know it." 

Thranduil nodded. Owen tightened his hands into fists for a moment before releasing them and giving his fingers a shake. 

"Why didn't you tell me you'd seen her?" the man asked. 

"I wanted to avoid this," the elf muttered. 

Owen laughed, but the sound was without true mirth. "Thran," he said, "for the record? That probably wasn't the best plan." 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Well, I can see that _now_." 

He smiled a bit and nodded. Then he sat down next to Thranduil. "Are you ashamed of me? Did you not want her to know about us?" he asked. Thranduil didn't understand; he blinked at his lover. Owen shrugged. "I mean, I can understand, if she knew you before, maybe you weren't open about your attraction to men, or---"

"Oh... no. No. Never. That isn't an issue," Thranduil insisted, "and it never will be." 

"Yeah?"

Thranduil nodded. "I meant it, when I said you've made these days better," he added quietly. 

"Good. I meant it, too." 

The elf closed his eyes. "I didn't tell you because I want to take care of her. I didn't want you to scare her off. She's been captured. Tortured. It's up to her to tell you more, I won't betray her confidences." He sighed. "I didn't even know she was still alive. I thought she was gone... I... I feel responsible for her, Owen." 

"She's family. I can understand that," the man murmured. He leaned up and kissed Thranduil's forehead. "You're a good friend, to care that much about her." 

"She doesn't have anyone else right now." 

Owen sighed and smoothed the blond's hair off of his face. "Obviously, I won't insist you turn her away," he said. "Just tell me... she won't bring danger to your door, will she?"

"Not on purpose. She said she's been safe getting here. I believe her." 

Owen nodded. After a long pause, he asked another question: "How long have you guys been apart?"

"A very long time." 

He frowned. "You never get into specifics with me," the man commented. He pulled Thranduil into his lap; the elf went without hesitation. "There's so much I don't know about you."  

"I don't lie to you," the blond elf promised. "I may not tell you things, but---"

"But, I don't tell you things, either," Owen interrupted. 

Thranduil rubbed the base of Owen's neck with one hand. "You show me the important stuff," he assured his lover. "And you keep coming back." 

"As long as you'll still have me." 

The elf ducked his chin down, lowering his gaze. He'd felt his eyes begin to fill with tears---how could Owen ever suggest Thranduil wouldn't want him around? the mere idea of it brought on the beginnings of a panic attack!---and didn't want Owen to see his weakness. 

"Always," Thranduil whispered shakily. 

Owen sighed. His arms slid more tightly around Thranduil's body; the elf wriggled closer without resistance. The man murmured softly, ridiculousness the elf knew he'd never admit to saying in the presence of his employees, and Thranduil lapped it up. He replied with a quiet hum and a gentle scratching to the back of Owen's head. 

"It is hard to think clearly around you," Owen whispered. 

"I'm sorry," Thranduil whispered. 

"You're still mine?"

"Always," he promised again. 

Owen relaxed a bit against the elf. He rubbed his fingers over Thranduil's spine. Then, he started to ask another question: "Have you two ever..." 

Thranduil lifted his head. He looked at the man and saw his eyebrows raised. He understood Owen's meaning and immediately laughed. "No, Owen... never," he said in as firm a tone as he could manage around his laughter. "I... I can't begin to explain why that would bother me, but please believe me when I say that will never happen." 

Owen was barely smiling; Thranduil didn't know what else to do but lean in and kiss him. Owen responded by sighing and kissing him back. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't think of all the ways it could look. I'd been so surprised to see her alive---"

"I get it," Owen interrupted. "I'm not wild about you keeping this from me, or someone putting us in potential danger, but I get it. She's your family." 

When the elf nodded, Owen smiled a bit more and kissed him again. "I might have more questions for you both, later," he said quietly. "Alright?" 

Thranduil nodded again. 

"Wait... before we go out there, do you know who she's hiding from?" 

"Military types was all she said so far," the blond whispered. 

Owen sighed. "The same people you're hiding from?" 

"No, but they wouldn't be disappointed if they got me instead of her," he said honestly. "Tauriel won't let that happen." 

" _I_ won't let that happen." 

Thranduil leaned in and kissed him again. 

"Why, though?" Owen asked, after a long pause with their foreheads pressed together. 

"Similar genetic traits. Similar knowledge. Similar skills." 

The man frowned. "The language you two speak?" 

"It's a family thing," Thranduil said, uncomfortable with the questions Owen was asking and with the answers he had to give. "We... I... that isn't why, but it would help them find us if they heard it being spoken." 

"It sounds like a mix of Scandinavian and Germanic languages," the man remarked, "but I don't recognise it." 

"I learned it from my parents," the elf said evasively. "We all spoke it." 

Owen nodded. "A family secret?" 

"Something like that." 

The dark-haired man sighed. He didn't look happy at all with any of Thranduil's most recent answers; however, he smiled a bit and squeezed the elf's hips with his hands. "You'll tell me what you can, when you can?" 

Thranduil nodded as his eyes filled up with tears again. He knew in that moment, more than at any other time, he would have to tell Owen the truth and risk his relationship, his safety, _and_ the magic that kept returning Bard to him. 

He thought a prayer---to anyone who could be listening---that Owen would accept (and welcome) the truth. 

"Hey... what's this?" Owen asked. He reached up and brushed the moisture from the blond's cheeks. "Thran?" 

"I... I am afraid you will look at me differently if... or, when I tell you everything," he admitted quietly. 

"Did you kill someone just for the fun of it?" 

Thranduil sniffled and shook his head. Owen smiled. "Then, let's not worry about it right now," he suggested. "I hate not knowing something about you, but I can wait until you're ready to tell me." 

He kissed Thranduil, a soft, almost-open kiss to the corner of the elf's mouth, before speaking again. "When you tell me something, I'll tell you something. Alright?" 

"You... I, well, yes... but---" 

"My brother is an assassin. He's more than that. But, the military trained him to be deadly," Owen said quietly. "When I was discharged, I started to work for him. We work for ourselves, we profit by selling weapons and other merchandise to the highest bidder. Some things, we'll never do, but our hands are plenty dirty... I know you put some of this together already, but---" 

Thranduil cut him off with a quick kiss. "Thank you for telling me." 

Owen nodded. He spoke again. "And, yes. I was suspicious, so I came home early," he admitted. "But, for the rest... I can wait. I don't want to force it out of you, Thran." 

The elf wrapped his arms around Owen's neck and shoulders and hugged him close. Owen hummed softly in his ear, rubbing his back in response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Nêg! = Ouch! (Pain!)   
> Elo! = Wow!   
> Gwannas lû and = It has been too long (A long time has passed)   
> Mae garnen = Well done   
> I nawen ben nawedh = I agree (My thought is in accordance to your thought) 
> 
> (If I've chosen something wrong, please tell me so I can fix it!)
> 
> I'm behind on replying to comments, and on writing, and I'm sorry about that. This last week was pretty bad, and I think this coming week will be worse. Thank you for reading... and for bearing with me as I work out some stuff. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen gets some answers out of the elves...

Thranduil woke up, realised the other side of the bed was cool to the touch (and it was still dark outside), and groaned. 

Owen had decided, at Thranduil's invitation, to spend the night. He'd known Owen wasn't comfortable leaving him alone in Tauriel's company, and Thranduil wanted to be as accommodating as he could be to make up for his dishonesty. 

He'd made the offer, Owen accepted, and Tauriel agreed to sleep in the living room. 

"I can handle it. For you, to keep him, I can handle it," she'd assured him when he'd warned her that Owen might ask her some questions later.  

"I'll wait til morning to ask her anything," Owen had promised him, when Thranduil asked him to behave.  

It all appeared to be perfectly civil. 

But, the former Elvenking realised, as he heard Owen and Tauriel conversing in the outer room, appearances could be deceiving. 

He knew from experience---in particular, from hearing the tone of Owen's voice before---that the man was deliberately trying to rile up the red-haired elf into giving him useful information. He'd witnessed him employ that technique with his team---but from a discrete distance or over the phone, because they still hadn't met 'Overwatch' officially---and while he knew Tauriel was resistant to interrogation techniques, he also knew how determined Owen could be.

He should have insisted they (the two males, not all three of them) fuck, to tire Owen to exhaustion. 

Or he should have at least brewed more of the drowsiness-inducing tea for the man to drink. 

Muttering in Elvish under his breath, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe. By the time he got to the hallway, he heard Tauriel say something about being the captain of his guard. 

"His guard?" Owen asked. "What is he, royalty?" 

"To me, yes," Tauriel snapped. "And I will continue to defend and protect him as long as there is life left in my body now that I know he is still alive!" 

"How do I know by finding him, you haven't brought your trouble to his door?" 

"Because I took many precautions in coming here." 

Thranduil heard Owen sigh. Then, he heard Tauriel move into the kitchen. 

"Come on," she said. "We're going to need some wine or whisky or something if we continue talking. Your interrogation skills are tedious and there are more civilised ways to do this. Thranduil, do you want to join us or continue lurking in the hall?" 

Thranduil groaned again. 

"Thran?" 

The blond peered around the corner. Owen saw him and stood up; he was only a few feet away by the time the elf made himself move into the living room. 

"I woke up and you were gone," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but---" 

"But you heard me asking her questions." 

Thranduil nodded. 

"I waited until morning. Technically." 

The blond elf rolled his eyes. He took one more step, so he was standing in Owen's personal space, and kissed his cheek. 

"Hooligan," he murmured. 

"You had a guard detail," Owen said quietly. "Why didn't you tell me---" 

"It was nothing. I'm not royalty, I'm no one of any imp---"

"Thran." 

The elf sighed. "What do you want me to tell you?" 

"The truth." 

"I... oh, fine. I had a guard detail. I... I had important parents. My father put it in place and as much as I wanted to dismiss it, I had responsibilities that required it." 

"The same father that taught you archery and sword fighting." 

Thranduil nodded. 

Owen smiled. "Were you raised to be a secret agent?" 

"A medieval spy? No." 

"A soldier?"

"That is closer to the ideal my father had in mind," the elf admitted. 

The man nodded. "Want to join us for a drink?" he asked quietly. 

"Are you going to continue asking questions?" 

"Probably," Tauriel said as she returned to the living room, carrying a bottle of wine under her arm and a few glasses in her hands. "He won't stop until he's satisfied." 

Thranduil sighed. "Alright. Let's have a drink." 

The three of them, clad in sleepwear of various shapes and sizes, settled down on the sofa and in chairs. Tauriel poured the wine and they each took a glass. 

Owen sniffed his wine before taking in a small sip. Thranduil did the same. Tauriel watched them both, smiling, but refrained from commenting. 

"So..." Owen said quietly. 

"Ask what you want," Tauriel prompted. 

Owen glanced at Thranduil. The blond snorted. "Go ahead. You don't need my permission." 

The man smiled a little before turning his attention back to Tauriel. "Who's after you?" he asked. 

"It was American and Russian intelligence for a while, but now, it's hard to tell," she said in response. "I suspect it's a private organisation." 

He let out a low whistle. "What did you do?" 

"I escaped," she replied with a smirk. 

"But, before---"

"I fit a profile," she told him. "A quirk of genetics they wanted to exploit."

"Is that why you cut the points off your ears?" 

Tauriel blinked, surprised by the question. She glanced at Thranduil, who was also displaying and feeling surprise. He had not told Owen about the redhead's ears; there was no way the man could have gleaned that from either of them, he was certain. 

"They look different. Not quite right. There's no outer ridge," Owen said. "You guys are related somehow, yeah? That would explain it... if the points are some sort of familial trait." 

Tauriel recovered first. She nodded. Owen seemed pleased that he'd guessed correctly. 

Thranduil sipped his wine. Owen swirled his in its glass. 

"They experimented on me," Tauriel admitted. "Testing my limits, forcing me to work for them... what they did to others was worse. I would not bring that torment upon Thranduil." 

Owen frowned. "How did they force you to---"

Tauriel frowned, too. "Threats upon other prisoners," she interrupted quietly. "Violence. Tracking devices." 

Owen put his hand to his neck. "The collars..." 

"You've seen some of us, then," she said. 

"In the Middle East." He sighed. "I didn't know... they called you the Suicide Squad, yeah?" 

She nodded. Thranduil winced; he couldn't believe they used such a distasteful name.

"You had some awful assignments." 

"We have special skills they thought would be useful." 

Owen sighed. "I... I'm sorry," he said. "We didn't know why they called you that. Even my men were relieved that they weren't given some of those jobs." 

"You didn't know. And you didn't know Thranduil then, so there was no reason to sympathise with our plight." She paused and shrugged. "I was not with them then. I was lucky enough to evade capture before those missions began," she added. 

The man nodded. He looked to be lost in unpleasant thoughts. Thranduil reached out and rubbed his arm. 

"How many of you died?" Owen asked quietly. 

"A couple, during those missions. More died during the experiments before and after, though," she told him. 

"Are you all related?" Owen asked, looking from one elf to the other. 

Thranduil shook his head. Tauriel shook hers, too. She spoke before the former king could, though, assuring the man that a few of them were distantly related, but most simply had the genetic quirk, as far as she knew. 

The blond elf was impressed at how she kept her composure---and at how truthful she was being with Owen, without divulging too much of the information that he wanted kept a secret.

"Are some still being held?" 

"I suspect so," Tauriel replied. "It's difficult to track those who hunt us. I gather information from survivors and other sources. When I find a pattern, I try to strike."

"Do you have access to that information?" 

The redhead nodded. "I can get to it if necessary." 

"I'd like to see some of it, if you don't mind." 

Thranduil sighed. "Owen, you have your own job. This is more dangerous---"

"I have connections you two don't," Owen reminded the male elf. "I might recognise something worth tracking that you wouldn't." 

"It couldn't hurt," Tauriel said to him. 

Thranduil sighed again. "Fine, but I will not have him take up our cause," the elf said tersely. "It is far too dangerous. Especially when we have no idea if they have successfully completed some of those experiments you mentioned. He can handle himself, yes, but I will not risk his life!" 

"Agreed," the female elf murmured. 

Owen smiled a bit. "Thran, I love it when you come to my defense---especially when you sound all proper like that, because I know it means you're getting worked up---but I can handle myself." 

Thranduil sighed. "I know you can." 

"Besides, you have no problem letting Tauriel---"

When he broke off and cursed under his breath, both elves turned to look at him. Owen's soft gaze turned stony. 

"You're planning on going with her, aren't you?" 

"Owen---"

"Absolutely not!" the man growled. "Not without me!" 

"Owen, you do not know what---" 

Owen set down his glass of wine and stood to pace around the living room. Thranduil shrugged at Tauriel; he did not know what to expect because he had never seen Owen that worked up, and that quickly, before. He had known the man would not be pleased if Thranduil decided to accompany Tauriel on one of her missions, but he'd hoped the man would be calm and eventually allow himself to be convinced to accept it. 

He did not look very accepting---or willing to eventually accept---in that moment. 

"Are you out of your mind?" Owen asked his lover. "I mean it, Thran. Going into a private outfit, with no backup, just the pair of you? With a couple of longbows?! Did you think I would sit back and let this happen?" 

"You go on missions all the time." 

"With a highly capable team. And appropriate weapons." 

"Owen, Tauriel and I are more than capable---"

"You are not going on some foolhardy mission without planning or support!" Owen hissed. 

Thranduil stood, too, and approached the man carefully. When he was close enough, he took Owen's hands in his. 

"I love that you want to come with us," the elf murmured. "But, if we find some actionable intelligence, I cannot risk your safety. These people are ruthless and vile. They would mark you as one of us, for your aid, and knowing you would have that target on your back---"

Owen tugged him closer, so their bodies were pressed together. "You are an idiot, elf," he whispered. "Do you think I'd worry about _another_ target on my back? When it would mean you stay safe?" 

The elf's only thought in that moment was that he hoped Owen would still feel the same way when he learned the truth. Emotion clogged his throat; he struggled to say anything, but all that came forth was a whimper. 

"Where you go, I go," the man murmured. 

"But---"

"No use debating me on this. I won't change my mind." 

Tauriel snorted. "Guys? There's nowhere to go yet, so maybe you could save it for later?" 

Owen smiled a bit at the blond elf. Thranduil reluctantly smiled back. 

"Are we on the same page?" Owen asked him. 

"With a provision to revisit it at a later date, yes," Thranduil agreed. 

"Great. Let's drink some more," Tauriel quipped from her perch on the sofa. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. Owen chuckled. Both males returned to their seats. The elf drained his glass in one swallow before holding it out to his elven companion to be refilled; the man took his glass in his hands but didn't drink from it. 

"More questions?" Tauriel asked him, setting down the bottle of wine after pouring more into Thranduil's glass. 

"Maybe." 

She smiled. "Alright. Let's have 'em." 

"Who do I remind you of?" he asked. "When we first met, you acted strange. Like we'd met before."

"We have never met before." 

Thranduil hid his frown behind his glass of wine. He hoped Tauriel would be able to get through that question on her own, because he knew he would not be able to speak unemotionally on the subject. 

"I know," Owen agreed. "But who did I remind you of?" 

Tauriel smiled. "He was an old friend, to me," she said quietly. "After disobeying Thranduil's orders, he'd arranged for me to work for this man you resemble. He was a brave and fair man. Generous. I was an employee, but he made me a part of his family. 

"He had three children," she continued, "and in our family, children were rare. They're precious to me as if they're my siblings. When I wasn't working, I was teaching them... how to sing, how to fight, how to braid hair." 

Thranduil felt his throat constrict again at the thought of Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda. They, like Bard, were always bright in his heart and memory. He remembered visiting them and their father, and the girls being so excited to show them what they'd learned; Tilda would braid his hair and Sigrid would recite verses in Sindarin. It would take some cajoling and some patience, but even Bain would come to him to show him what he'd learned of sword fighting. And he, too, would teach them all that he could, when he wasn't with their father. 

"You look like him, a little," Tauriel continued, while Thranduil tried to wrestle his emotions back under his (wavering) control. "You even have some of his bearing. It is remarkable. But, I do know you are separate people." 

Owen must have looked at Thranduil, because the next words out of his mouth were: "Thran? What's wrong?" 

The blond turned his head. "N-nothing," he lied completely unconvincingly. 

"You two were close?" Owen guessed. 

Thranduil nodded. Owen smiled a bit. "Should I be jealous?" 

"No!" the elf insisted. "No... don't be. It was a long time ago." 

Owen snorted. "You two always make it sound like you're older than you are. You can't be older than thirty-five, either of you." 

Thranduil smiled, but he knew it was a weak attempt at good humour. Owen knew, too, because before the elf could process what was happening, the man was crouching down in front of him. 

"Thran? Talk to me." 

"He died," Thranduil whispered. "We were close... and he died." 

Owen sighed and rubbed his legs. "Hey... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Don't apologise," Thranduil murmured. "You couldn't have known." 

"You have a type, I guess," Owen commented. 

Thranduil smiled a bit more as Tauriel smirked behind Owen's back. "Yes," he said, committing to lightening the mood. "Dark and handsome men who are brave and have great... assets." 

Owen smiled. He reached up and tucked some of the elf's hair behind his ear; when he shivered at the touch, Owen smiled more. "Do we look that much alike?" 

"You remind me of him, sometimes," Thranduil admitted. "But _you_ are the man I'm quite attached to now." 

"Quite attached?" Owen teased. "That's good." 

"Very." 

Owen kissed him. Thranduil closed his eyes and put his hands on either side of the man's head as he kissed him back. 

"Guys? Get a room." 

The dark-haired man chuckled against the blond elf's mouth. Thranduil smiled, too. When they pulled back, Owen looked him over before turning to Tauriel. 

"Didn't want a show with your drink?" 

"I'd prefer not, as attractive as you both are," she replied, grinning as if she hadn't been affected, too, by memories of Bard and his children. 

"Hey, can I know what this man's name was?" Owen asked as he rose to sit down on the arm of Thranduil's chair. 

Thranduil didn't have time to try to gesture to Tauriel to keep that information to herself before she was speaking again. 

"His name was Bard," she said, her smile fading somewhat. 

Owen perched on the arm of the chair, but only for a moment. He stood abruptly; both elves watched him look around the room. He settled his gaze on Thranduil for a long moment before leaving the room without explanation. 

"What was that?" Tauriel asked quietly.

"I told you, he remembers things. Sometimes it affects him more than he admits," Thranduil whispered back. He frowned. "I am going to have to tell him, Tauriel. His questions have struck too close. I will have to risk losing him. _Nan ear adh in elin..."_

Tauriel got up and knelt down in front of him after his muttered Elvish oath. 

_"Hîr vuin,"_ she murmured. "He cares about you. More than he should, in his position, but I am glad that he does for you shine when you have love in your life," she said in a soft whisper. "And you do not dishonor Bard's memory for loving this man for who he is. You know more than I that he would want you to find true love again and be loved again in return. He would not want you lingering for his memory alone... but, I suspect he will not stay away if it is in his power, in his own form, or in another's body and heart. He was---is---a strong-willed man." 

As Thranduil struggled to find the words to voice everything he was feeling---how he felt for Bard, how he felt for Owen compared to the other reincarnations, and how he was scared their relationship wouldn't survive the truth of his existence---she smiled and patted his knee. 

"Is this where you tell me to trust in the Valar?" he inquired. 

Tauriel laughed softly. "No," she murmured. _"Savo amdir,"_ she encouraged him. _"Avo dhavo am môr."_    
   
Instead of brushing off her hopeful, supportive words, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. _"De athe,"_ he whispered. 

She smiled at him and nodded, keeping her head bowed for a moment. When Thranduil leaned back, she looked at him again. "When will you tell him?" she asked. 

"When I have to," he replied. "I do not think he can take any more shocks to his system tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, if he demands it, but I would prefer to wait." 

"Go to him," she advised. "Ease his mind. Tomorrow, make your plans." 

Thranduil nodded. 

"Thank you, Tauriel," he said quietly. "Sleep well." 

She nodded and eased away from him. Thranduil slipped out of the chair and crept down the hall to his bedroom. He did not know what he would find when he entered the room; he did not know what he wanted to find, either. 

Owen was sitting on the bed, head in his hands. Thranduil sighed and stepped inside; he closed the door before approaching his mortal lover. He climbed onto the bed, behind the man, and hugged him. 

"There's been something on the tip of my tongue for so long," Owen muttered. "I can't put it together. All I know for sure is that something's missing, but I don't know what it is." 

Thranduil kissed his shoulder. "How can I help?" he asked quietly. 

"You're doing it, love," Owen murmured.

He pressed another kiss to his skin. "It will come," the elf whispered. "When the time is right, it will come." 

"How can you be so sure?" 

"Because I know you," he replied. "And you are about precision and patience. So much more, too, but those qualities give you strength." 

Owen released his head and put his hands on Thranduil's arms. "Thank you," he said quietly, "for giving me some answers tonight." 

"They've been long overdue," Thranduil murmured. 

"What do you want to know about me?" 

The blond eased him back onto the bed, into a reclining position, before he answered the question. 

"Tell me... oh, I don't know. Tell me about the first time you fell in love," he decided aloud. 

Owen chuckled. "Alright. Well, I'd known this bloke for only a little while," he said, as Thranduil snuggled up alongside him. "I was pretty sure we were hitting it off... but, he keeps secrets. He's tricky to get to know. Maybe a little skittish, too." 

"Sounds like quite a fuss." 

"Yeah, but he's worth it," Owen murmured. "Anyway, we were out driving one night, breaking all sorts of driving laws, and he actually relaxed and put his head on my shoulder after we drifted through a near-hairpin turn---instead of freaking out or anything else. He got calm and quiet and he had this small smile on his face... and I just knew." 

Thranduil blinked. He hadn't been paying close attention, but by the end of his short story, he realised Owen had described one of their dates in the earlier stage of their relationship. 

He lifted his head and looked at Owen. "Are you... you mean... oh," he breathed. 

"I love you," the man said. Thranduil thought his heart skipped several beats; hearing those words again, in _that_ voice, was wonderful and he knew having _that_ man say them meant as much as they had the first time that voice spoke them. 

Not knowing how affected the elf was, Owen reached up and rubbed the blond's neck with his hand. "This wasn't part of my plan, but I will never regret meeting you," he said quietly. 

Thranduil smiled. He leaned in and kissed the man's jaw several times, in a line, before landing on his lips. "I love you, too," he whispered. 

Owen smiled more. Some of the tension lingering in his face loosened. 

Later that night, after Owen fell asleep, Thranduil glanced to the window and said a silent prayer to the Valar, in case any were still out in the world, to help him find the strength to tell Owen the truth and to grace him with the luck to keep his love after the truth has been revealed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nan ear adh in elin! = By the sea and the stars!   
> Hîr vuin = My lord  
> Savo amdir = Have hope   
> Avo dhavo am môr = Don't yield to darkness  
> De athe = Thank you (you are helpful)
> 
> (Again, hopefully I didn't make too many elvish mistakes. I grabbed the phrases from the Elvish phrase book, online, and I hope I picked the right dialects, but if I made a mistake, and you can, please correct/advise me.) 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen and Thranduil reconnect. Owen gets a glimpse of some of Tauriel's information.

Thranduil woke to feeling a bristly face pressed against his shoulder. He smiled; Owen dragged his lips from there to the back of his neck and he let out a breathy sigh. 

"Morning, love," Owen whispered. 

"Morning," the elf whispered back. He turned slowly in the circle of Owen's arms; once he was settled, he smiled and kissed the man. "Any plans for today?"

"I have to meet with Ivory and Vegh," he replied. "I'll be gone for at least six hours." 

"Big meeting or long drive?"

Owen smiled. "A little of both."

"When do you have to leave?"

"After breakfast," he told the elf. "I'll be back before supper." 

Thranduil nodded. He prepared to have to ease away from his lover, but when Owen smirked, he felt his pulse quicken and he knew Owen had decided to postpone springing into action. He was glad to see the uncertainty and curiousity from the night before had bled away to something they could both enjoy. 

"But, first..." Owen trailed off and leaned in. 

His lips met Thranduil's in a firm kiss; his teeth nipped at Thranduil's lower lip and his tongue took advantage of the elf's gasp. Thranduil wrapped an arm around Owen's neck; he wrapped a leg around Owen's hip. Owen groaned as the elf secured himself to Owen's body and responded by tightening his own grip on Thranduil's body. 

"I want to fuck you," Owen whispered, growling a little. "Our welcome-back time has been postponed long enough." 

Thranduil shuddered in reaction to the tone in Owen's voice. He nodded. Owen grinned and kissed him again. 

"I'll save what I'd been imagining for a time when we don't have guests," Owen explained when he pulled back. "I expect you'd make quite a bit of noise."

Thranduil whimpered. 

"I had a dream about you, while I was away," Owen murmured. He eased Thranduil onto his back and slipped over him. The elf made room for him between his thighs. He raised his eyebrows and waited for Owen to continue. "We were in a beautiful forest," the man said, "and you were leaning back against a huge tree trunk, naked and _wanting_. You shone, you were dazzling like some ethereal being, and you couldn't wait for me to put my hands on you." 

Thranduil shivered. He and Bard had sometimes explored their passions in one of the few nearly-safe places in his decaying forest. Owen's words could have described one of those encounters but they also could have described a mere dream; either way, the idea of being surrounded by nature and Owen was a potent thought. 

"You like that idea," Owen commented. 

Thranduil nodded. 

"We are going to do that some day," he promised the elf. 

Thranduil whimpered. 

Owen grinned and leaned down to kiss him. They had sleep pants and shorts in the way, but the garments did nothing to conceal how they were feeling towards each other. Thranduil pressed his erection into Owen's thigh; Owen responded in a similar fashion and swallowed the moan Thranduil let loose in reaction. 

After a few more increasingly messy kisses, it didn't take them long to decide to shed the flimsy cloth barriers. Owen stood up and slipped out of his; he used the moment to grab a condom and lubricant from Thranduil's bedside table. 

"I'll get tested soon," he said. "And then..." 

"Me, too," Thranduil said, agreeing, even though he knew it was something he'd never do. Even if he could contract human diseases, the thought of putting his blood in the medical system would put an unwelcome (and easy to spot) target on his back. He did, however, want a lack of barriers between them and he knew Owen would need the assurance of test results for that. 

"But, in the meantime..." 

Owen chuckled. "Impatient, elf?" 

"You have no idea," Thranduil murmured. 

The man laughed a little when Thranduil plucked the condom wrapper from his hand. He tore it open and sheathed Owen's cock in quick, precise, familiar movements. After a couple of firm strokes that made Owen growl and grunt, he allowed the man to batt his hand away. 

The man kneeled between Thranduil's legs after the elf returned to reclining against the pillows. 

As he eyed the familiar territory in front of him, he licked his lips. Thranduil shifted his hips; the movement broke Owen's concentration and spurred him to action. He squeezed some of the liquid out onto his hand and rubbed it between his fingers. A minute later, he swiped those fingers down over the flesh Thranduil had exposed when he spread his legs. 

Thranduil shivered; Owen grinned. 

"Hurry," the elf whispered. 

"What if I just want to..." he trailed off as he slipped one finger barely inside the rim of muscle he'd slicked, "do this? All morning?" 

Thranduil arched his back and pressed onto the finger. It curved, stretching him, and he sighed happily. 

"I will push you down and ride you," the blond promised. 

Owen laughed. He added another finger, from his other hand, and pulled him open. Thranduil rolled his hips; he stretched his arms out over the mattress and pillows as a groan slipped from his mouth. 

"Look at you," Owen said, his voice rougher than it had been a few minutes ago. "All spread out, pale skin flushed, hard and wanting... and all for me." 

"Only for you," Thranduil confirmed. 

He reached out for Owen and pulled the man down to him. Owen replaced the finger of one hand with two more from the other and braced himself with his free hand. He wrapped his arm around Owen's neck to kiss him, licking his way into Owen's mouth; he squeezed his hidden muscles around the fingers and was rewarded with an anticipatory growl for his actions. 

Owen didn't dawdle after that. He pumped his hand a few times before pulling his fingers back and replaced them with his cock. He buried himself slowly, moaning as his length disappeared into the elf's body. 

"This may be my favourite part of you coming home," the elf whispered. 

Owen's face warmed into a soft smile. He closed the (small) gap between them, folding Thranduil nearly in half as he pressed on the back of his thighs, and kissed the elf beneath him. 

"Stay close," Thranduil insisted.

"Always." 

Owen moved slowly, setting a lazy, maddening pace. Thranduil moved his arm, the one that was wrapped around Owen's neck and shoulders, so he could thread his fingers through the man's hair. He ran his fingers from the back of his head, to the front, and then back again; when he scratched gently, he took pleasure in the way Owen shuddered against him. The elf's other hand smoothed along Owen's side in strokes that matched the pace of their hips until a particular strong thrust; then, he gripped Owen's waist and held onto the man as he let himself drift in the moment. 

Their kisses deepened and loosened, becoming sucks and licks and shared breaths. Sweat beaded on their skin, running into creases of limbs and gathering in flat spans of flesh. Thranduil felt his stresses fade away in all the warmth and arousal he was feeling. 

"God, I missed this... missed you," Owen whispered. 

"Take me with you next time," Thranduil suggested before he arched his back and thrust back against his lover. 

Owen chuckled as he dragged his mouth down to Thranduil's neck. He licked a stripe up the side of the column, nipped at the elf's jaw, and then sucked a bruise to the next spot he kissed. 

"That's not fair. I'd agree to anything at this point, and you know it, love," Owen said, laughter still in his voice. 

Thranduil grinned and kissed the side of Owen's head. 

Owen stopped moving his hips. He lifted his head and looked down at the blond. His hands slid from Thranduil's thighs to hands; he pinned them to the pillow under Thranduil's head. The elf shivered; the man met his gaze and held it. 

When he rocked his hips into Thranduil's body, he growled as Thranduil whined and arched. 

"Just like that," the man whispered hoarsely. "God, you're gorgeous." 

Thranduil felt his face flush. Owen smirked and thrust again, at a slightly different angle. 

"Oh!" the elf gasped. 

His hands tightened on Owen's and he arched again. The man above and inside him maintained that angle as he continued to move, back and forth, holding him in place at both ends. 

"Close?" 

"Y-yes," Thranduil said around a shiver. 

His orgasm crested after three more thrusts, no contact needed anywhere else due to Owen's precision. He cried out---a little more loudly than he would have liked, given that he had company sleeping on the couch in the living room---and surrendered to it. 

He wrapped his legs around Owen's waist. He stroked the back of Owen's thighs with his feet and kept up the rhythm the man had set. Owen groaned and dropped his head down to Thranduil's chest; his body tensed, muscles coiling, and then after another groan, his body relaxed. 

They stayed close, like that, for several minutes. Thranduil drank in Owen's solid presence, savouring it and committing it to memory; he pressed kisses to Owen's head, hoping they conveyed some of how he felt. 

When they separated, they didn't stray too far from each other. Owen disposed of the condom but quickly returned to bed. He pulled Thranduil close; the elf yielded with a happy hum. 

"Five minutes, and then I have to get a shower," he whispered. 

"Mmm... want company?" 

Owen chuckled into Thranduil's hair. "I know from experience that having you join me means a much longer shower. And probably another shower after there's hot water again." 

Thranduil grinned. 

They lounged until Owen's phone's alarm beeped. Owen shut it off before pressing his lips to Thranduil's temple. 

"Stay in bed," he murmured. "I'll wake you before I leave." 

"Mmm." 

Owen snorted, kissed him again, and left the bed. Thranduil immediately rolled over into the space the man had vacated. 

He slept lightly until Owen left the shower. As the man dressed and prepared for his day trip, Thranduil showered; he savoured the lethargy that had crept into his body in the aftermath of shared pleasure. He donned a pair of leggings and a loose sweater, hoping that the slow and warm mood could continue through the day. 

When he emerged from his bedroom, he found Tauriel and Owen in the kitchen. Tauriel was sitting at the table; a half-empty cup of tea was on her left, the remains of a bagel were at her right, and Thranduil's laptop was in front of her. Owen was sitting on the kitchen counter, sipping from a mug of coffee as he flipped through (what appeared to be) messages on his phone. 

He touched his fingers to Tauriel's shoulder as he passed to go to the cupboard for a mug of his own. Owen reached out and caught him, pulling him between the man's legs. He tucked his face into Owen's neck; he felt Owen do the same against him. 

"I thought you'd sleep longer," he murmured. 

"I couldn't hear anything out here," Thranduil said, smiling as humour filled his voice, "and I started to worry about the pair of you." 

Owen chuckled. Tauriel snorted. 

"I'm putting together some of the information Owen wants," the red-haired elf explained. "He's waiting patiently." 

"I only asked one question this whole time," the man said as he pulled back to look at his elf. 

Thranduil smirked. "Was it 'would you like some coffee?'" he inquired. 

Owen laughed, a quick bark of amusement, and shook his head. "No, love," he promised. 

"He asked why you don't like computers," Tauriel told him. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Don't read too much into that," he told the man who was still holding him close. "I can use one just fine. I choose not to. I prefer books and pens and actual paper." 

"Well, you still use this plenty," the female elf commented. "You updated the folder on your desktop---"

"That's enough!" Thranduil hissed. 

Owen patted his elf's hips. "What's in that directory, hrmm?" he asked. He leaned in and nipped at the lobe of Thranduil's ear. 

Thranduil swatted at him. "Never you mind," he muttered. 

"Oh no," Owen pressed on, "now, I need to know. You're all flushed again." 

"Can I have tea or coffee first?"

"Nope." 

The blond elf sighed dramatically. "Fine. I save pictures and videos in that folder," he muttered. 

Owen grinned. "Your porn stash, hrmm?"

Tauriel snorted. "In a manner of speaking..." 

"Ah, no. Not so much. Nice try." 

Owen patted his hips again, before slipping off the counter and heading over to the table where Tauriel had been working. Thranduil tried to look casual about the matter, but he knew what was in that folder---all the pictures and videos Owen sent him via cell phone---and he knew how it would look---incredibly sentimental. 

Tauriel made room for him at the laptop's monitor and together they opened the directory. She made a little delighted squeal of a sound; he remained silent, mouth open in surprise with a little bit of a smile playing at the corners. 

"You saved..." Owen's words trailed off as laughter took their place. "You even saved the video I sent you of---"

"I saved all the videos you sent me," Thranduil said with a little sniff. "Even the one where you were singing along with the radio in your car to that awful song." He paused and smiled. "Actually, that video is one of my favourites." 

"Yeah?"

Thranduil nodded. "You have a lovely singing voice." 

"Perhaps I'll consider a career change to musical theatre," he teased. "Keep my elf happy by singing for him every day."

"God, you two are adorable," Tauriel muttered. 

Owen chuckled. He leaned back in the chair he'd taken and sipped his coffee---

\---and then spit it out in a spray of surprise. 

"Owen?"

"How do you know him?" he demanded of Tauriel. He pointed at a photograph on the screen, something that had been revealed after the redhead had had her fill of Thranduil's collection of Owen-related media. "Him, there. Is he a part of this?"

Thranduil walked around the table to see the photograph that had caught Owen's attention. It was one of the photographs from the obstacle-course-themed collection. He was pointing at a man wearing what looked like the military's equivalent of business casual attire. He had on dark sunglasses, but Thranduil could see his focus was on the elf being evaluated. 

Tauriel glanced from Owen to Thranduil, saw the former Elvenking's slight head tilt, and told Owen what she knew of the man. 

"He started to come more recently. When new 'recruits' were obtained. Or when there was a test or a problem. As far as I could tell, he was not involved in day-to-day operations," she said. "They all defer to him. No one ever said his name. They called him by rank. And then by titles of respect. But never a name." She frowned. "He was one of the worst."

"Why?" Thranduil asked. 

"Because he looked at us as if we were things," she stated, her voice holding some of the venom she kept for that man. "He encouraged the research."

Thranduil reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned her face into his arm, seeking comfort. 

"Who is he, Owen?" Thranduil asked quietly. 

"Few know his name," Owen said. "He's something of a leader in the American intelligence community now. He's got his fingers in a lot of pies---pies that are usually all baked in his own oven. 

"He has pseudonyms, of course. But, I know he was involved in my brother's training somehow," he continued, sighing as he paused between sentences. "I believe Deck told me his name is Frank Petty, but that could have been an alias for all I know." 

Owen sought permission from Tauriel before selecting another image from the directory she must have created (since Thranduil had hidden the flash drive she gave him) and he grunted when he gave it a quick once over. 

"Should've known," he muttered. "Those two have been thick as thieves before." 

Thranduil looked at the image. It was the photo that had drawn his attention, with the large, boulder-like man lifting weights next to an elf who was doing the same exercise. 

"Who is it?" 

"Hobbs." 

At hearing the name, Thranduil startled. Owen had mentioned his name before, because it was that agent who had shown an interest in a couple of Owen's more recent jobs. He had not known what the man looked like, though, and he could not deny he found the man's size unnerving. 

"Looks like our paths cross here, too, love," Owen said quietly. 

Tauriel looked up at Thranduil as Owen lapsed into silence. The elves shrugged; Thranduil wasn't sure what the new information would mean for any of them. 

"I'll have to think about how to proceed," Owen mused quietly. He gave his head a slight shake and turned to look at Tauriel. "Can I keep these photos? And anything else you've got?" 

Tauriel nodded. "I put it all on here," she said, gesturing to the laptop, "after I disconnected it from the internet." 

Owen nodded. "Good. I'll put it onto one of my servers after I get back. There are a couple of faces that look familiar... maybe I met them when I was SAS." 

He sipped from his coffee mug and set it down before standing. 

"Time to leave?" Thranduil asked. 

Owen nodded. "I've got a bit of a drive ahead," he said. 

The blond elf smiled. "Well, I'll walk you out," he murmured. 

The man said a quick good-bye to Tauriel, who returned the sentiment with a smile and a wave, and then took Thranduil's hand. They walked through the kitchen and into the living room together; at the opening to the foyer, Owen tugged him close for a kiss. 

"Does this information change your plans?" the elf asked when he pressed his forehead against Owen's and wrapped his free arm around Owen's shoulders. 

"Dunno yet, love," he admitted. "I doubt it. Makes me wonder about the character of my opponent, though." 

He reached up with his free hand and rubbed one of Thranduil's ears between his fingers. He smiled when Thranduil shivered. 

"You all have the same points," Owen said quietly. 

"Genetic quirks." 

"A pretty strong one." 

"Yes," the elf agreed. 

"That's why they want you? Pointy ears?" 

Thranduil snorted. "No, that would be ridiculous," he commented. "I think they assume if we have the ears, we have the desired traits as well." 

Owen nodded. "Well, I guess that makes sense," he said, seemingly accepting but Thranduil could hear the questions creeping into his voice. "I'll be back before supper. I'll come back here, if---"

Thranduil cut him off with a quick but firm kiss. "Yes," he whispered. "You don't need to ask. You're always welcome here. Or with me, wherever I am." 

Owen smiled. "Likewise, love," he murmured. "Even when I'm working, I want you by my side, as risky as it would be." 

Thranduil's eyes widened at the quiet confession. He leaned in and kissed him again, sucking on Owen's lower lip before pulling away. He knew Kendall Monroe had classes to finish---they both knew that---and he knew exposure to Owen's team could be dangerous---again, they both knew that---but the admission was indicative of the depth of the man's feelings. That depth gave Thranduil hope for (and fear of) the future and the honesty the elf would have to share when Owen's questions came too close to the truth he'd been hiding for so long. 

"If you ever want me there, you only have to ask," Thranduil whispered. 

Owen nodded. Then, he smiled. "Next foreign job, maybe," he suggested. "We'll make a vacation of it." 

Thranduil smirked. "I look forward to it." He kissed Owen again. "Now, you better go before Vegh gets antsy." 

Owen chuckled. "She's almost worse than me when it comes to punctuality." 

"Almost," Thranduil teased. 

Owen's chuckle morphed into a laugh. He tipped his head back as it happened, exposing where Thranduil wanted to kiss him. 

"Alright, love," the man said, traces of his laughter in his voice. "I'm off. I'll see you later." 

"Drive safely." 

Owen smirked. "Always." 

Thranduil chuckled. He let Owen pull his hand free and walk to the door. He waved when the man pulled it open; he didn't move again until the door closed and the man was gone from his sight. Then, after locking the door, he returned to the kitchen to get the coffee he hadn't yet gotten. 

After a sip, he turned and saw Tauriel watching him. 

"Do not search for those names," Thranduil instructed her. "If they're important, there may be something watching for them." 

She nodded. "I already considered that. I have a contact who can do searches under the radar, if Owen cannot." 

"I suspect he can."

Tauriel smirked. "So do I," she agreed. "This is a major development. We might finally get information that would reveal the head of the operation."

"And then what will you do?" Thranduil asked. 

"Act." 

"Do you really think taking off the head of whoever it is in charge would give us freedom?" Thranduil asked. "You would be hunted. We would be hunted. And not for sport. We would be slaughtered for that action. Or worse." 

"Worse is already happening!" 

"Worse than imprisonment, buried beneath kilometres of concrete, away from any light?" Thranduil asked. "Because that is what will happen to us when they realise it was us. Freeing other elves is one thing, but what you are contemplating is something else altogether." 

Tauriel sighed. "I know," she said quietly, the fire in her eyes dying a little. 

"Owen... I suspect he will be willing to help, as long as our needs are aligned, but..." 

"I know," she repeated. "Still, knowing who it is... if we can survey them, perhaps that will give us an edge in staying hidden." 

Thranduil nodded. "Perhaps." 

In all honesty, he, too, wanted to go after whoever it was in charge. He wanted to hurt them for maiming his people. He wanted to exact revenge for every elf killed, for every elf experimented upon, and he wanted to do it as quickly as he could. That rush, though, made him hold back; he knew he had to restrain himself to prevent making an impulsive move that could not be taken back. 

He was a warrior. He wanted to fight. But he knew he was no good to anyone if he ended up imprisoned---or dead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen returns from his meeting with Vegh and Ivory. Tauriel receives news and prepares to leave. Thranduil tells Owen a bit more about his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add this earlier (wasn't with my computer when I updated), so I'm doing it now. BreathingBarduil made [this image](http://breathingbarduil.tumblr.com/post/128994328199/bullets-and-blades-by-crushing83) for the series and it's lovely and I'm just so touched. :) <3

Owen returned at the end of the day with bags of takeaway, a bottle of wine, a smile on his face. 

Thranduil tried to muster up a smile to match, but he'd spent the whole day ruminating on the information Owen had provided the elves. His mind had been trying to figure out what action they could take, but knowing enough about the world from which Owen came made him hesitant to accept any course of action as possible. 

"Oh, love, what is it?" 

The elf stood up from his chair. Owen met him, setting his purchases down on the coffee table before he reached for the elf. 

"I've been thinking all day," he admitted. He went into the offered hug without hesitation. "If the man in the photograph is as powerful as you say---"

"Don't worry about it," Owen interrupted. "We will deal with this. Together." 

"Owen---"

"I'm not letting you face this alone," the man interrupted. "We will save who we can, when we can. And we will go from there." 

"You want to help, even after---"

"Especially after," he confirmed. "I don't do much saving in my line of work," he added quietly, murmuring the words into Thranduil's shoulder. "But, I've been thinking maybe it's time to do something good." 

"And if you can stick it to Hobbs in the process?" 

Owen chuckled. "A bonus I'd be a fool to pass up." 

Thranduil smiled and pressed his lips against Owen's temple. "That sounds more like you," the elf murmured. 

"C'mon," Owen said with a pat to the back of one of the elf's thighs. "Let's get this spread set out. Where's Tauriel?" 

"She went for a run," Thranduil replied. "She should be due back soon." 

"Then, let's put this in the oven and the wine in the fridge... and we can get in our own exercise." 

As Owen waggled his eyebrows suggestively, Thranduil laughed a little. "This morning wasn't enough for you?" the elf asked.

"It's never enough." 

Thranduil slipped out of his arms and picked up the wine. "Bring the food," he instructed. 

"Yes, my lord," Owen shot back. 

The elf scowled a little but didn't respond. That nickname wouldn't be going anywhere, he knew, since it probably rang a bell deep in Owen's mind; he was trying to accept it despite the pangs it caused in his heart. He went into the kitchen and put the wine on the counter; as Owen came into the room, the sound of feet on the fire escape could be heard. Owen tensed and turned towards the sound; as he did, he pulled Thranduil behind him. 

"Easy, soldier," Thranduil murmured. "It's Tauriel." 

Sure enough, Tauriel came in from the living room a minute later. It wasn't until Owen saw her and actually processed seeing her that he relaxed and allowed Thranduil to slip past him. 

"How was your run?" the blond elf asked. 

She grinned. "Excellent. There is a building a few blocks from here with rebar sticking out of the brickwork, I swung up to its roof. It has a great view of the river. You should go there and watch the sun rise---it's nearly like that place in the Greenwood where you could look out and see most of the Celduin." 

"The Greenwood?" 

Thranduil glared at Tauriel, who had the decency to look apologetic, before turning to Owen. "Where we lived," he said quietly. "It's one of the names of our home." 

"Sounds pretty," Owen commented. 

"It was," Tauriel agreed. "Large trees you could never tire of climbing... a canopy under the stars... Thranduil, when was the last time you celebrated beneath the stars?" 

Thranduil glared again. She grinned, not looking at all apologetic that time. 

"Beneath the stars?" Owen asked. "Sounds like fun." 

Thranduil smiled a little. "It was," he agreed. "You would have enjoyed it. Before the forest was overtaken, we would celebrate for days and nights when the occasion warranted it." 

"I had no idea you were the type to go on a bender," Owen said, smiling. 

"In another life," the elf replied. 

"We'll have to spend some time under the stars one night," the man decided. 

Thranduil smiled. "Owen... it's not imp---"

"I think it is," he interrupted. "I want you to do all the things that make you happy. When things quiet down, we'll go somewhere isolated. Maybe to a cabin in the forest, where no one can find us." 

The elf knew he was smiling one of his dopiest smiles, but he didn't care. That the tough military man would offer such a vacation was a gesture that warmed his heart. 

"That sounds good," the blond elf murmured. 

Owen smiled. "Good. Now, Tauriel, are you hungry? I brought enough food for an army, it seems." 

"Mmm yes, please," she replied. "Just let me wash up first." 

She ducked out of the kitchen. Thranduil turned to his cupboards and pulled out plates and wine glasses; he set the table, making sure to put cutlery down, too, and Owen busied himself by opening containers and moving them to the table. 

"Tapas?" he inquired. He smiled. "Some of this looks familiar." 

Owen grinned. "I wanted to treat you tonight. I got your favourites. Tauriel seems to have similar tastes, so I figured..." 

Thranduil closed the gap between them and took the man's head in his hands. After a couple of quick kisses, he pulled back and whispered: "Thank you." 

"If I had known you spent the whole day moping, I would have bought dessert, too." 

"I'll have dessert later, in bed," Thranduil promised. 

Owen wrapped his arms around Thranduil's waist. A pleased sound seemed to rumble from his chest. The elf kissed his lover again, more slowly, and before long they were enjoying deeper kisses and making louder sounds of pleasure. 

"Oh, for the love of---"

Thranduil pulled back at Tauriel's broken-off exclamation. He smiled at Owen, who was smirking back at him, and then eased away from the man. 

"You've walked in on worse," Thranduil commented. 

Tauriel snorted. "Doesn't mean I want to see it again," she shot back. 

Thranduil chuckled and moved towards the bottle of wine. He fished a corkscrew out of a nearby drawer; within moments, the bottle was open and he was joining the other two who had gone to the table. 

"Sounds like there's a story there," Owen commented. 

The elves looked from each other to the man. Thranduil broke first. He smiled and shrugged. "I would visit her employer. Bard, I mean. Sometimes, it would be months between visits, and we were not always discrete." 

Tauriel snorted and rolled her eyes. "That's putting it mildly." 

Owen laughed quietly. He looked to his elf. "Were you a bit of an exhibitionist?" 

"Not on purpose," Thranduil insisted. He shrugged. "We'd try to wait until we got to a bedroom, but we were not always successful." 

"So any room would do." 

"Or the stables or the shooting range or---"

"Tauriel." 

She smiled. Owen laughed again. Thranduil started pouring wine, trying not to lose himself in the memories their conversation provoked; Owen, still chuckling a little, started dishing up food onto their plates. 

"This looks great," Tauriel commented. 

"From one of Thran's favourite restaurants," Owen told her. 

"It's delicious," Thranduil added. "Although, I see Owen did not pick the wine we usually have with it." 

Owen grinned. "Trust me. This red will be just as delicious as your precious blended white." 

"It better be," Thranduil muttered, prompting Owen to laugh again. 

They ate and shared pleasant conversation. Owen asked Tauriel about the rest of her run; she in turn asked him about his day. Thranduil had been surprised that he was so forthcoming with information, but he also knew that there was a lot the other man wasn't saying. He never mentioned anyone by name, and he kept many details of his work of which Thranduil was aware to himself. Still, Tauriel seemed to appreciate the effort he made and smiled with every response. 

When the meal was finished and they were finishing the wine, Owen turned their conversation to the information he'd gleaned from Tauriel's evidentiary files. 

"I have my team looking into Hobbs," he told them. "I know the highlights of his record, but I told them to dig deeper. If there's anything to be found, a location or a name, they'll find it." 

Tauriel nodded. "What about---"

"I'll ask my brother. He'd know better than anyone." 

Thranduil frowned. He knew Owen loved his brother, but he also knew that his entire demeanor changed---and not for the better---whenever they were in touch. 

"Are you sure?" the blond elf asked. 

Owen smiled a little and nodded. "I have to make contact with him soon anyway." 

Thranduil nodded, too. "If you're sure..." 

"I am." He turned back to Tauriel. "If I find anything, I'll let you know." 

"Thank you, Owen." 

He smiled again. "It's important to Thran. It's important to me to keep him safe," he said, making his position clear. "And, since our worlds have collided, in helping you both, I can stick it to someone who's close to becoming a thorn in the side of my operation." 

Tauriel smirked. "A win-win situation for you, then, if all goes in your favour." 

"It usually does," Owen said with a smirk of his own. "I don't like to leave anything to chance." 

She chuckled and looked to Thranduil. While the elf was nervous of having Owen take up their cause, he knew the man was extremely careful and planned everything he could to the last detail; he smiled at the other elf because he knew there was a better chance of them freeing their kin and putting a stop to their torture if, despite the risks, Owen was on their side. 

A chirping sound interrupted their conversation. Tauriel cursed under her breath in Sindarin and hurried from the table to find her phone where she left it. 

Thranduil listened for a few minutes, put together enough words to figure out what had happened (it sounded like someone had almost been abducted by a couple of soldiers), and jumped to his feet to go to Tauriel's side. 

Tauriel ended the call with directions to a safe house. She wished the caller luck getting the elf there and received a 'thank you' in response before she tucked her phone into her back pocket. 

"What happened?" 

She sighed. "An elf from Lothlórien---one of the few that stayed---he was walking to work in Paris and found himself being followed. He got away, eventually. He's safe for now." 

"You're leaving." 

Tauriel nodded. "I should be there when he arrives at the French safe house. He's with one of the others right now, but..." 

"It is your mission." 

She nodded. 

Thranduil frowned. "You will be careful?" 

"Always." 

He nodded. 

"Everything alright?" 

Tauriel turned to look at Owen, who had stepped into the living room and leaned against a wall. His body language was deceptively casual; Thranduil could see the nervous energy he was hiding and he suspected Tauriel could, too. "It will be," she replied in a calm voice. "A friend was found. He got away, but I want to go and meet him at the safe house." 

Owen frowned. "Are you sure it's safe?" 

She shrugged. "They took all the necessary precautions. It should be fine." 

"Tauriel..." 

"I can tap into the security cameras there from here, tonight, make sure the place isn't being watched," she told the man. "He is with someone I trust to get him to safety. It is the best I can do." 

"How far do you have to go?" Owen asked. 

"A day's drive. More or less." 

Owen nodded. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. After tossing them to her, he said: "Take the car next to Thran's. It's a faster drive and will handle well if you need to get away. And there are plenty of hidden panels with supplies you may find useful." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes. Keep it if you can, just change the plates when you are able," he replied. "If you can't, sell it for parts. It will fetch a pretty penny once chopped up." 

"Owen... thank you." 

Thranduil watched his lover smile and shrug. He wanted to say something, but everything he thought to say seemed inadequate. He was giving Tauriel a gift, a way to stay safe, and it felt as if his heart was both melting and swelling in reaction. 

"Just be careful. If you get into trouble, Thran will feel obliged to go after you, which means I'll have to go, too," the man said in a calm tone of voice. "I'd like to avoid confrontation with this lot until I have more information." 

She smiled and nodded. "Fair enough." 

"When will you leave?" Thranduil asked her. 

"Tomorrow morning," she replied. "I better go pack." 

With a whirl of red hair, she was gone towards the bathroom or laundry room with her bag in her hand. Thranduil turned to Owen. The man smiled and shrugged. 

"What, love?" 

Thranduil crossed the room and planted a big kiss on Owen's lips. "Thank you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders. "I don't know how to repay you for this, it's so---"

"Hey," Owen interrupted gently, "it's no trouble. And you don't owe me a thing. I have other cars." 

The man moved them into the kitchen. He leaned Thranduil against the counter and kissed him again. "She's your family," Owen added, smiling when he lifted his face back, "and to be honest, I kind of like her. I want to help." 

"Well, thank you doesn't seem like enough, but... thank you." 

Owen rubbed Thranduil's sides with his hands. "You're welcome," the man murmured. He brushed the elf's nose with his, smiling again when the elf hummed happily. "Now, why don't you go help Tauriel or grab a shower while I clean up in here?" he suggested. "And then, I'll meet you in the bedroom and we can talk some more." 

"Talk?" Thranduil echoed. He smirked. "I have to admit, talking is the last thing I want to do right now." 

Owen laughed. 

"There's more than one way to communicate," the man murmured. "Maybe one of those would suit us better." 

Thranduil nodded and stole one more kiss before slipping away from Owen. As the elf moved back into the living room, where Tauriel had started shoving her clothes into her duffel bag, he could hear Owen putting the dishes into the dishwasher and the leftovers into the fridge. 

"You are certain you have to leave?" Thranduil asked quietly. 

She nodded. "I would leave soon anyway," she admitted. "You and Owen have a life and I do not want to intrude." 

"You are not intruding. You are always welcome here." 

Tauriel smiled. "Thank you." 

"Come back when you can," he insisted. "I... I enjoyed your visit." 

Her smile stretched into a grin. "Good. I will be back." 

"Good." 

"And, if you ever have need of me, do not hesitate to send word, _hir vuin_. I will come without hesitation." 

"Likewise." 

"I will keep your existence from the others," she assured him. "I trust them, but torture is difficult to withstand. I do not want those men to learn we have one of our leaders among us." 

Thranduil tilted his head. He wanted to give his kind hope---the type of hope that could only come with the knowledge that someone is going to lead and fight for them---but he knew it was safer if he remained hidden and he had no way of knowing if any of them would follow him. Tauriel was their leader, in a way, and she had earned their respect by going through hell with them. It would be better if she remained that figure for them. 

"Thank you," he said quietly. 

"They are your people," she said. "I am simply the captain of your guard." 

Thranduil smiled. "They are more yours than mine. You have been so strong, so brave, Tauriel. I admire how you've survived and helped others to endure as well." 

She brushed off his praise with a shrug of her shoulders. Thranduil smiled more. 

"Promise me something?" she asked. 

He nodded. 

"If you are ever in the New World again, with nothing to do, look up the half-elf. She needs guidance, even if it is from a distance," she said as she passed him a small card with a name and an address on it. "And it may be a long time before I am heading that way again." 

Thranduil nodded and pocketed the card without looking at it. 

"If you ever need a place to hide," Thranduil said quietly, "there is a place seven hours, by car, north of here. If you look at a map, you will see similarities to the position of the palace in relation to running water. There are no easy roads, but if you remember how to find home, you will find a way there. The entry code at the gate is the date of Legolas' favourite holiday, in our age. Someone comes once a week to check the property, but if you tell her I sent you, she won't give you any trouble." 

Tauriel's eyes softened. "My lord..." she whispered. "That is your private home..." 

"I will see you safe," he said firmly. "If you have need, Tauriel, go there." He paused before speaking again. "I would prefer if you refrain from snooping." 

She gave a little laugh. "Your memories are safe in my care," she assured him. 

"Good. Do not sneak off before breakfast," he instructed. 

Tauriel nodded. He smiled, reached out and squeezed her shoulder, and walked past her to go to his bedroom. 

He put the card she'd given him in his wallet and set that and his phone on his bedside table. He moved around the dark room as he undressed, slipping out of his clothes and tossing them in the direction of the laundry basket, and once he was nude he slipped into his robe. 

He ducked into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He thought about taking a shower, but decided against it. He wanted to go to bed and curl up around Owen; judging by the sound of the lights being turned off, the man was on his way to the bedroom and the elf did not want to waste any time. 

He came into the room as Owen was removing his shirt. He smiled and put his hands on Owen's bare back. The man inhaled and turned; Thranduil's hands settled on his chest. 

"Are you alright?" the man asked. 

He nodded. "I will worry about her, though," he admitted. 

Owen smiled. "She strikes me as tough and resourceful." 

"Must be why you like her," the elf joked. 

"That's probably some of it," he agreed. "But, I suspect most of it is the way she makes you happy." 

Thranduil ducked his head. Owen kissed his temple. "You have all of these burdens weighing you down," the man whispered. "She lightened some of them for you, I can see it." 

The elf looked at him again. "You lightened many of them, Owen," he said quietly. "Don't ever think---"

"I know," Owen interrupted. "But, there are things in your past that I can't help with. She does. I'm not jealous. I'm patient. I know we'll get there." 

Thranduil nodded. Owen smiled. "Now, get into bed, elf," he suggested, "and I'll join you in a minute." 

The blond elf stepped away from him, towards the bed, slipping out of his robe as he went. 

"Do I get a strip tease?" Thranduil asked, smirking. 

Owen laughed. He moved his hips from side to side as he thumbed open the buttons of his fly; Thranduil grinned and clapped, earning him another laugh. The man turned around and wriggled out of his tight trousers; the elf let loose a low whistle, making him laugh one more time. 

After tugging off his socks, he sauntered over to the bed. Thranduil took one of his hands and pulled him closer; Owen climbed onto the mattress. 

"How was that?" 

Thranduil grinned. "Brilliant," he declared. "Now, come closer and kiss me." 

Owen heeded his request with a grin of his own. The former Elvenking let his lover distract him from his more serious thoughts with kisses and touches; he let himself drift in the sensations, giving himself distance from the plight of the elves and the mission they might undertake one day. 

Their bodies pressed together. Owen's hips ground into his. Thranduil felt both calm and frenzied; he wanted so much, all at once, and when his lover tried to move away for the items that would make penetration easier (and safer) he licked his palm and wrapped it around both of their erections. He stroked firmly, leaving no question that he wanted completion as soon as possible; Owen groaned but made an effort to tease both of Thranduil's ears in retaliation.

Thranduil whined as he grew harder and hotter. Owen's lips sucked small marks into his neck; he growled as he neared the pinnacle they were seeking. Owen broke first but Thranduil wasn't far behind. They collapsed against each other, breathing heavily and smiling, and when the man rolled off of him, the elf reached out and stroked his fingers over his flushed skin. 

Serious thoughts were still far from the front of Thranduil's mind in the aftermath of their passion. Owen's body was a warm weight at his side; he felt relaxed, almost too relaxed to react to much of anything. They drifted together for a while, close and content, but Owen broke their comfortable silence with a question. 

"You awake?" 

He nodded against Owen's shoulder. The man sighed and reached up into Thranduil's hair. In response, the elf arched slightly into the touch. 

Owen chuckled. "Sometimes, you're like a big cat." 

"Sometimes, cats are like me," Thranduil corrected in a drowsy voice, refusing to believe he had personality traits of a common pet. 

The man chuckled again. "Alright, love." 

"Mhmm." 

"Tell me something," Owen whispered. 

Thranduil bit back a sigh. He wasn't sure if Owen waited until that moment to take advantage of his sleepy mind or if it were coincidence; he wasn't sure if he cared enough to feel betrayed or if he should just accept that the questions would continue until Owen was told everything. 

"Anything in particular?" he asked in reply. 

"Something about your childhood." 

Thranduil breathed deeply. "I spent a lot of it on my own," he admitted quietly. "My father was important. He was always busy, even before we relocated to the Greenwood, and there was no one my age to play with. I read a lot, if I wasn't training... there was a lot of training." 

Owen rubbed his fingers through Thranduil's hair. "Sounds lonely," he commented quietly. 

"Mmm, I did not mind," the elf said honestly. "My father taught me to bear loneliness. My grief over the years, in later, harder times, compounded that lesson. Alone was safe. Alone, I believed no one could hurt me." 

The man kissed his elf's forehead. "Past tense?" 

"I am not alone anymore, and it feels much better," Thranduil whispered. He felt Owen's lips curve into a smile against his skin. The elf continued talking, trying to give voice to one of his concerns. "If anything happens to you, Owen---"

"Shhh. I always come back to you," Owen interrupted. 

Thranduil's heart tightened in his chest. He did not think the man knew how true that was, in one way, and he hoped he would not have to test that theory for a very long time. 

"What happened to the Greenwood?" Owen asked after another kiss to the elf's forehead. 

"A... plague of sorts overtook the forest," Thranduil said, trying to stick close to the truth. "It became difficult to live in. Eventually it recovered." 

"Can you take me there?" he asked. 

Thranduil frowned. Even if he knew exactly where it was located, after the shifting of land masses and continents and changing climates, he doubted it would be the same forest---or even, as much as thought made his heart clench, a forest at all. 

That thought blazed a trail for others: had his wife's favourite grove been devoured by time? was the tree Legolas fell from when he was so impossibly young still standing? was Bard's final resting place... was it (he) still... there? would he ever find those places again and reconnect with his past in a way he hadn't done since the Age of Elves started fading into history (obscurity)? 

"Hey, hey," Owen murmured, pulling Thranduil from his sad thoughts. The elf became aware of moisture on his cheeks, of his lover's fingers rubbing it away. 

"What's wrong?"

"I... I apologise. It's nothing." 

"Good memories or bad?" Owen asked. 

"Good," Thranduil whispered. "There may be some residual heartache." 

"There's so much about you I don't know," the man murmured, sighing a little as he pulled Thranduil in against his body and held him securely. "I wish I could do more to help." 

Thranduil snaked his arms around the man's body. "This is the best help... having you here," he admitted quietly. "As for the Greenwood, I don't even know if it's still standing," he said, pleased that he was able to keep his voice from trembling too much. 

"It's a forest." 

"It's been a while since my family called it home. We abandoned our property... it could be overrun or demolished or... lost," the elf whispered. "If it can be found, I'll take you there. I promise." 

He felt Owen smile against his shoulder. "Good," he replied. "I want to see where you grew up. Where you fired your arrows." 

Thranduil furrowed his brow. "Is that a euphemism?" 

The dark haired man laughed. "No, but it could be. You could show me all of those places, too." 

The blond elf smiled a bit and kissed Owen's neck. "Alright. I'll show you all my favourite wanking places, too." 

"Brilliant." 

Thranduil felt Owen pull back. He looked up as Owen propped himself on a hand, his elbow planted in his pillow. He turned towards the man, choosing to keep most of his focus on the gully between his collarbones. He felt the fingers of Owen's free hand brushing over his cheek and jaw. 

"There's so much I want to ask." 

"You get one more question tonight," Thranduil decided aloud, not wanting to test his failing emotional resolve any more that evening. 

"I want to know you..." 

Thranduil smiled. He turned his head and brushed the heel of Owen's palm with his lips. "You know me," he assured the man. "In this life, in the next, you will know me. You have known me, always." 

"Poetic," Owen mused, not realising that Thranduil had probably never been quite so honest with him before. 

"Ask your question." 

Owen smiled. "Alright, love," he agreed. He moved his hand from Thranduil's face, over his ear, and into his hair. "When's your birthday?" 

The elf blinked. He had not expected that question. He expected something about Bard or about the forest or even about Tauriel's responsibilities. 

"Well... on my driver's permit---"

"Is Kendall Monroe's the same as yours?" 

Thranduil gave a slight shake of his head. "No." 

"So?" 

"It's... in the spring. In April," he replied, giving his most honest approximation. Too much had changed and too much time had passed for him to give a factual response. "I never really celebrate it." 

"Never?" 

"My parents had a tradition where they celebrated my date of conception---" 

Owen grimaced. "Seriously?" He groaned. "Ugh. So then you're reminded every year of your parents---"

"I think the tradition was rooted in celebrating that love," Thranduil said, speaking over the man. 

He'd heard this before. Bard had been extremely uncomfortable at the idea of celebrating the day his parents finally conceived (as had the few other reincarnations who pressed the elf for that information); Thranduil, on the other hand, had been put off by not acknowledging the love of his wife, the bond they'd shared, and the gift, Legolas, which with they'd been blessed. Besides that, Thranduil wasn't sure he could celebrate such a gruesome, stressful process. He'd not done himself proud in the birthing chamber and his wife had teased him relentlessly; he hadn't cared much, though, because he'd been holding his son and nothing else had really mattered then. 

"Which is beautiful, sure," Owen admitted, "but then you're basically celebrating a night where your parents... did it." 

Thranduil snorted. "What are you, twelve?" he teased. "'Did it?'"

When he nudged the man in the chest---laughing a little and feeling glad for a distraction from his past---Owen caught his hand. He gathered his elf close, reeling him in by the arm until their bodies were tangled up together again. 

"Shush." 

The blond gave a little snort; he tucked his face into Owen's shoulder, but the need to laugh continued. Laughter bubbled out of him until he couldn't contain it anymore; it was an emotional release preferable to tears so he let the sounds escape. He laughed for Owen's reaction, he laughed for Bard's, and he laughed because he remembered celebrating the special days of those closest to him---and the memories didn't fill him with the sadness he'd felt only a short while ago. 

"Oh, come on," Owen groaned. "Give me a break, love." 

"'Did it,'" Thranduil snickered. "Don't like to think of your parents going to bed and---"

"No, stop!" the man complained, whining a little. 

"Maybe they didn't even make it to the bedroom---"

Owen wiggled his hand between his shoulder and Thranduil's face and sealed it over the elf's mouth. "No more of that," Owen decided, laughter in his voice. 

Thranduil peeked up at the other man and waited until his mouth was freed before leaned up to brush his lips against Owen's cheek. 

"I wouldn't say no to a really good bottle of port in the last week of April," he murmured. His forehead rested against Owen's temple; he lingered when Owen cupped the back of his head. "Or scotch. Your choice. We'll start a new tradition, you and I," he added quietly. "If that's... alright with you?"

The arm around his waist tightened a little bit. Owen exhaled slowly, but it wasn't a heavy sound. 

"That sounds good," the man murmured. 

"Now it's your turn," Thranduil insisted. 

"My birthday's in---"

Thranduil huffed. "Owen." 

"What? It's in March."

The elf smiled. "Alright." 

Owen smiled into Thranduil's cheek before kissing the skin there. "Anything else?" he asked. 

"Favourite place in the world?"

"Right here," the man whispered as he adjusted their positions, as he reclined back into the pillows, "right now." 

"Be serious." 

Owen chuckled. 

"Owen." 

"Oh, fine. I... it's hard to explain. I'll take you there some day," Owen promised. "It'll be a surprise." 

Thranduil nodded. Owen rubbed his hand over the elf's spine. The man kissed his temple and then his shoulder; Thranduil closed his eyes and skimmed his hand over the skin at Owen's hip. 

"We get the place to ourselves tomorrow," Owen whispered. 

"Yes." 

"Mmm. Good. I want to be selfish tomorrow and not share you with anyone." 

Thranduil smiled. "Alright." He kissed Owen's neck. "Sweet dreams, Owen." 

"You, too, Thran." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm sorry it took so long to post this... I may have some of this series planned out, but writing it has been a struggle lately. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by details :p


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel leaves. Deckard announces his arrival. Owen and Thranduil start making plans for the future.

"Are you sure you have to leave?" Owen asked. "It feels like I was just getting to know you." 

Tauriel snorted. Owen grinned. 

Thranduil chuckled to mask his relief. Owen had been asking more astute questions, the more he learned, and he was making it difficult for the elves to continue to equivocate. He didn't want her to leave but he hoped, with Tauriel gone, he'd be able to use more effective (physical) tactics to delay Owen's quest for information. 

"I'll send you the rest of the information when I get to a safe place," Tauriel said as she shrugged into her coat. "Can I send it to Thranduil or---"

"Text him when it's ready. I'll give him the IP address of a secure server where you can upload it," Owen interrupted. "That way you won't have to worry about it being tracked on my end." 

The red-haired elf nodded approvingly, a little smirk on her lips. Before she picked up her bag, she took the few steps necessary to reach Thranduil. She put her hand over her heart and bowed her head; he did the same before leaning forward and letting his forehead rest against hers. 

_"Herio i hinnarn,"_ she whispered encouragingly---and rather teasingly, he thought.

Thranduil sighed. Tauriel tipped her head away from his and smiled. 

"Take care," he murmured as he stood straight again.

"Same to you," she said. "I will contact you when I reach my destination." 

He nodded. She smiled. Then, she turned her attention to Owen, extending his hand for a shake; he accepted the gesture, clasping her forearm with his free hand. 

"Until we meet again, _mellon nîn_. I wish you well in your endeavors." 

"Safe travels and I hope to see you again soon," Owen replied. 

Tauriel nodded, bent down to grab her bag, and headed for the door. She gave them one last smile before opening it and stepping into the hall. 

Owen closed and locked the door after her departure; Thranduil turned and went into the kitchen. He started clearing the table of the remains of their morning meal. He could hear Owen moving in the living room, assuming he was checking the windows as he often did before preparing to leave, but he amended his reasoning after hearing the man moving towards the kitchen. 

"What did she call me?" Owen asked, as Thranduil turned his attention to the breakfast dishes he'd put by the sink. 

"Hmm?" 

Owen chuckled. "I know you heard her. Melon nin---what does it mean?" 

Thranduil rolled his eyes and silently cursed Tauriel for her lapse in keeping their language from Owen. She'd been good the whole time they were together, apart from in the beginning, but it seemed that either fond feelings or the realisation that the man would have to be told the whole truth had loosened her tongue.

"Repeat after me," he instructed. _"Mellon nîn."_

_"Mellon nîn."_

"Better. If you are going to try to speak our language, you can at least refrain from butchering it." 

When he heard nothing in response, he glanced over his shoulder. Owen was staring at him, a peculiar expression on his face. Thranduil set down the plate he was scraping and turned fully. 

"Owen?"

"I had the strangest... huh. Is that what _déjà vù_ feels like? What a trip," the man said, giving his head a little shake as he chuckled. 

He was oblivious to Thranduil's remembering that he'd said something very similar (or nearly identical) to Bard, once upon a time, and the tightening in his chest as he realised that the sensation Owen felt was a fluttering of memory. 

"Anyway, what does it mean?" 

"My friend," Thranduil replied quietly.

"Guess she likes me, then." 

The elf smiled, pushing his thoughts aside. "Well, there is a lot to like," he said as he drew closer. 

"Yeah?" Owen asked. He put his hands on Thranduil's hips when he was close enough, and guided him so their bodies were pressed together. "Like what?" 

"Stop fishing for compliments," Thranduil scolded in a teasing tone. 

Owen grinned. "But, I like it when you praise me." He leaned in and kissed the corner of Thranduil's mouth. "I especially like when you moan those praises loudly," he said before sucking on the middle of the blond's lower lip. 

Thranduil shivered. Owen scraped his teeth over the flesh he'd suckled and then quickly soothed the sting with his tongue. Thranduil made a quiet noise of pleasure in reaction. 

"That's a good sound, too," Owen declared. 

Thranduil put his hands on Owen's shoulders and leaned in to kiss him; Owen closed the remaining gap between them and pressed their lips together. They kissed in the middle of the kitchen for a few minutes. Even after Owen's phone started ringing, they lingered, letting their lips slide together a few times before parting. 

"I better---"

"Go ahead," Thranduil murmured. "We have the whole day." 

"Hold that thought," Owen demanded, growling a little. He plucked his phone out of his back pocket and answered the call. "Shaw," he said once the device was at his ear. 

Thranduil had turned back to the dishes, but he could still hear Deckard's voice respond to Owen's brief greeting. 

_"I got your text,"_ the older brother said. _"Why're you after information about him?"_

"Just curious." 

_"It isn't wise to be curious about him."_

Owen sighed. "I gathered as much. His name popped up in some research... I want to know more," he said, his voice tightening. 

_"Curiousity killed the cat."_

Thranduil could almost hear Owen bristle at his brother's teasing tone over the sounds of dishes clinking and water sloshing. Deckard must have sensed his frustration, too, because he spoke again before Owen could. 

_"It's best to share this information in person. I'm headed in-country. Are you in London?"_

"With all those cameras? Not bloody likely," Owen muttered. Deckard laughed. Owen chuckled and added: "I'll send you coordinates to a safe meeting place. You can pick the time." 

_"Sounds good. See you soon, brother."_

Owen ended the call. Thranduil wiped his hands on a towel and turned around. The man's brow was furrowed and his shoulders were tense. Thranduil wanted to reach out to him and soothe away that tension, but he knew better than to push Owen for more before he was ready. 

The dark-haired man gave himself a little shake and smiled. "Deckard's on his way. Apparently that information's too sensitive to send." 

"He's coming here?" Thranduil asked. 

Owen nodded. "I won't bring him near your place. We'll meet at mine---"

"But that's your secret place." 

The man shrugged. "Yeah, but---"

"Let's find another meeting spot," Thranduil insisted. "We can find something with a good overlook and---"

Owen grinned. He stepped closer, not stopping until his hands were back on Thranduil's hips. After nuzzling the elf's jaw with his nose and lips. He spoke again. "You don't need to protect me from my brother." 

"I do not want you to be exposed if you will be meeting in unfamiliar territory." 

He kissed Thranduil's neck. He sucked on the skin under his lips. "Thanks, love," he whispered. "It'll be good to have you watching my back." 

Thranduil rubbed his hands over Owen's back. "Let's go find a place---as soon as I've finished tidying up," he insisted. "You can fill me in on the situation with Hicks while we look." 

Owen nodded. "I'll go transfer those photos to my server and come back to help you dry the dishes," he said. 

He stole a quick kiss from Thranduil's lips, patted the elf's hips, and stepped away to leave the room. Thranduil smiled and turned back to the sink of soapy water. 

&&&&&

They were walking around the third possible site, watching nearby traffic patterns and checking for other sources of disruption, when Owen started talking about the DSS agent he'd tagged as the one to approach for inside information. 

Thranduil learned that she's been stationed in Egypt, Tunisia, and Afganistan, that her reports were thorough, and her recommendations were glowing. But, Owen had discovered a tendency to involve herself in local matters; small things didn't add up and he and Ivory learned that she did small, private operations on the side. They were mostly for personal gain, but every once and a while she did one that did not seem to line up with her interests, so the men suspected she was acting on someone else's behalf. 

"You'd think it would be easy, then," the elf murmured as he turned and looked for the highest and closest building, "if she's doing business under the table."

"The _FBI_ is easy to infiltrate," Owen muttered. "She should be a piece of cake. But..." 

"Something about her has you uneasy." 

"She's already a double agent." 

"Ah," Thranduil responded. "So, either you are concerned she will stretch herself too thin or you will wonder where her true allegiance lies." 

Owen nodded. 

Thranduil shrugged. "You've never been overly concerned before about swapping out a bad part. Why would this be any different?" 

"The stakes are higher." 

"I know," the elf agreed. 

Owen smiled a bit. "Not going to sugarcoat it, hmm?"

"You wouldn't like me to do that," Thranduil said, turning back to face him for a moment. 

"True." 

Thranduil looked at a decently-tall building that he thought would provide him with a decent vantage point. "Does she have a boyfriend?" he asked. 

"What?"

"Well, why is she breaking rules? Personal gain, I understand, but---"

"Oh, no. It seems to be for money." 

Thranduil nodded. 

"You're not going to take Vegh's side in this, are you?" Owen asked. 

The elf smiled. He and Vegh had never met, but Owen indicated before that they had similar opinions of many situational topics. He approved of the woman's place on Owen's team, for that reason, but also because she acted as a strong, organised second for Owen in his absence. 

"Depends," Thranduil murmured. "What was her side?"

Owen grunted. 

"Owen." 

"She said... oh, hell, she thinks if I try to seduce her---" he broke off when he looked at the elf's face. When he didn't see outright disapproval, he groaned. "Thran, no." 

Thranduil tilted his head. "Why not?"

"Because... no." 

"She's attractive." 

Owen blinked. Thranduil rolled his eyes. "She has physical attributes that make her aesthetically pleasing to look at," he said, only because Owen looked a little confused. "And she's strong. I thought you'd appreciate that. You never came across to me as one on any side of any fence... " 

He shook his head. "I'm not. I'm not all that inclined in any way. Whether that's nature or nurture, I don't know---or care. You're different. You caught my attention." 

Thranduil smirked. "Good." 

"Yes, well... with _her_ it would be---"

"Motivation for her to stay in line." 

Owen nodded. Then, he frowned. "You're actually fine with it?"

The elf gave a little shake of his head and a laugh. "No, not really. As the freelancer you sometimes hire, I can see the value in that. As a... well... as your partner---" he paused and smiled when he heard Owen's pleased rumble of agreement "---I am jealous and displeased." He shrugged. "It doesn't have to be a consommated relationship. I would prefer that, but I know missions sometimes require leniency."

"What... is wrong with you?"

Thranduil frowned. "She will bring your mission success. You are _mine_ , as much as I am yours. She cannot change that."

"Well, I think you're mental." 

"That may be possible, but it does not change the fact that Vegh and I are again in agreement," the elf murmured. He went to Owen's side when he saw the furrowed brow and frown on his face. "If it truly makes you uncomfortable... I can't lie, it would be a relief if you could not go to her on that pretense," he added quietly, while threading his fingers through Owen's. "But, consider it. It might be the edge required to secure her loyalty." 

Owen sighed, but he gave a nod. "I will consider it." He snorted. "I can't believe you two agreed on this. I was so sure you'd be on my side." 

Thranduil smiled. He leaned in and kissed the man. "I'm always on your side," he reminded him. 

Owen put his free hand on the elf's waist. He squeezed gently. "I know," he whispered. 

After a little nod, Thranduil stepped back. "Stay here. I'm going to climb that building." 

Owen's brows jumped. "Climb?"

The elf nodded. Descriptions of Tauriel's most recent run had come to mind when he saw the fire escapes, rebar, and textured brickwork. It wasn't one of the buildings upon which she had waxed poetically, but it would suffice. He felt an impulse to move and climbing the building would work. 

"Be careful?"

"Sure." 

Before Owen could protest, he'd taken off for the alley. Owen's footfalls could be heard at a quick pace behind him; he was either racing to stop him or to watch him. 

Thranduil bent and pushed off the ground. His hands wrapped around the lowest rung of the fire escape's ladder. He grinned, swung his legs to build momentum, and ended up hanging from his bent knees. He laughed, remembering brighter and lighter times, and waved at Owen before flipping upright to climb up the ladder. 

His feet were light as he pushed and pulled himself up the fire escape. When he reached its end and jumped for the rebar sticking out of the side of the building, fifteen feet below the severed ladder to the roof, he heard Owen gasp; he smiled to himself and continued on his way. 

The ladder did not look sturdy. He was quick but he did not want to risk it loosening. He took the various protrusions of rebar to a ledge made in the brickwork; from there, he vaulted high enough to grab the edge of the building. 

It took a little wiggling, but eventually he pulled himself up to stand on the roof. 

He waved to Owen, who waved back and muttered something under his breath about his crazy boyfriend, and then he fired off a quick text to Tauriel. 

_I climbed a building. You were right about the rebar._

After sending that, he received a text from Owen. 

_Take the stairs down._

Thranduil chuckled. He held his phone in his hand as he walked around the roof. He looked down and saw the site he and Owen had been investigating; it was a small park, surrounded by older office buildings and a few trees, so there was ground cover but it wouldn't be enough to block his view of the area they thought Owen and Deckard could use to meet. 

_It looks great from up here. Little to no obstructions in visibility. Better than the last two..._ he texted to Owen. 

Owen replied quickly. _Take some pictures for me?_

Thranduil switched to the camera application on his phone and took several shots of the area. He pulled out a little device Owen had once given him; it attached to his phone by way of a magnetic ring he'd stuck around the camera lens. When he pulled the phone up again to take more photographs, he was able to save wider-angled pictures that he knew would appeal to Owen when doing his preparatory work. 

He wished his camera could see what his elvish eyes could see. Owen wouldn't lack for detail then. 

He sent the pictures to Owen's server within minutes, e-mailing them to an address the man had made sure was on his contact card, and then he inched to the roof's edge to peer down at the ground. 

_Don't even think about it._

"Oh, honestly," Thranduil huffed. 

He pocketed his phone and made his way to a door. It (amazingly) wasn't locked, so he opened it and descended through what seemed to be the building's internal fire escape system. It took him down to the ground level; its door was already held open. 

"Thanks," he murmured as he neared Owen. 

The man was leaning agains the doorframe. He smiled, tugged Thranduil close, and kissed him. "Thank you for not doing that again," he said in reply. "You _are_ mental. I have absolute proof now." 

Thranduil laughed. Owen snorted and wrapped his arms around the elf's body. "It's just... climbing," the blond whispered. 

"You yanked one of those bars out when you jumped for the ledge."

Thranduil frowned and glanced out and up to where he'd done that maneuver. Sure enough, one bar and some concrete was missing. He looked down and saw the bar on the ground, surrounded by a bit of rubble. 

"Well, that would have affected my descent."

Owen chuckled and squeezed his hips. "C'mon," he said. "I want to go home."

"Yours or mine?" 

"I like your shower, but mine has a bigger tub," he replied. 

Thranduil grinned. "Alright," he said, agreeing easily once the prospect of an afternoon soak was on offer. 

&&&&&

"This is how one should spend the day," the blond elf murmured. 

He tipped his head back, resting along the wall. From his position against the front of Thranduil's body, Owen hummed quietly. The blond smiled; he stroked his fingers over Owen's chest. 

"Was that agreement?"

"Yeah," the man breathed. 

Thranduil chuckled. He looked at the tub's edge when his phone beeped. He shook the excess water from his hand and reached for the device. 

_We are all safe. You should climb more :)_

He thought about typing a reply, but he knew it could wait. He put his phone down and smiled. The tension in his belly was dissipating. 

"Tauriel?" Owen asked. 

"You have psychic powers."

The man chuckled. "No, I could feel you finally relax," he said. 

Thranduil chuckled. He leaned forward to brush his lips over the side of Owen's neck. 

"She said they're all safe. And that I should climb more."

Owen laughed. "Of course she did." He took one of Thranduil's hands in his and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad they're alright." 

Thranduil squeezed his hand in reply. 

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" he asked the elf. 

"A few errands and my afternoon classes." 

Owen nodded. "Deckard will want to meet soon. Probably the day after tomorrow." 

Thranduil gave his hand another squeeze. "Tell me the time and I'll be there, in my perch," he said quietly. "I'll cancel my classes if I have to." 

"Thanks, love." 

The elf leaned forward and kissed the back of Owen's head. "Are you worried about meeting your brother?"

"Nah, not really." 

"Owen..." 

"I'm concerned he's going to wave me off of our situation," the man said after a long pause. "And that he's going to ask a lot of questions I can't answer without involving you." 

"You don't want me meeting him." 

Owen turned his head, nuzzling against Thranduil's shoulder. "It's not because I don't want you meeting my family, love," he murmured. 

"You are concerned he will tell you I am an unnecessary distraction." 

"Yes." 

Thranduil kissed his head again. "You can't get rid of me that easily." 

Owen chuckled. "Good." 

"So, you'll gather your intelligence and we'll start putting things together," Thranduil said quietly. Owen nodded and hummed his agreement. "Hopefully Tauriel will get that information to you, and we can go from there." 

"That's all we've got so far, yes," Owen said. 

"It's not much, but it's something." 

"We'll get your friends to safety if we can but I promise we'll do everything possible to put a stop to this," Owen assured him. "I'm on your side. I don't want you looking over your shoulder." 

"I love you," Thranduil whispered. "For this and many other things." 

Owen chuckled. "Many other things?" 

"Oh, yes," the elf said, smiling. "It's an extensive list." 

The man rubbed his cheek against Thranduil's shoulder. "I have a list of my own," he murmured. "It grows longer every day." 

"And what was today's addition?" 

"I love you because you're my kind---the good kind---of crazy." 

Thranduil smiled. "When you turn around, I'm going to kiss you. And then we're going to bed." 

"It's early." 

"It will be late by the time I've finished with you," Thranduil promised. 

The elf could almost hear Owen grinning. He turned around, sloshing the tub's water around them both, and Thranduil caught his face in his hands. He kissed the grin off of Owen's lips. 

"Bed, now," the man insisted. 

Thranduil agreed. 

He wasn't sure what the future would bring. But, as he watched Owen drying his body off with a towel---while he watched Thranduil do the same---he knew that as long as he had Owen at his side, he'd survive it. 

After a silent hope--- _Please don't let my truth push Owen away_ \---he took Owen's hand and followed him out of the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Herio i hinnarn = May the long tale begin  
> Mellon nîn = My friend
> 
> And that's it (for now). It may be an abrupt ending, but I needed to end it here because meeting Deckard and some of the planning is supposed to happen in the next story. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> And to those of you who leave kudos and comments... you have been so encouraging and supportive. I'm pretty much floored by the response this series has generated. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts! 


End file.
